EVE

1.
Back in the garden:
Three stone slabs,
trees bending in close

but not too close.
Ranunculus flowers,
orange blooms.

A bird on a step,
a small creek below.
And beyond that,

an open green space
where my child
was playing.

I was so happy here,
finally home, my own
place, my own garden.

I called the child
to come, let’s follow
the stream.

It led to a street
we drove down,
a wasteland

of failed suburbs
dead-ending
at a concrete wall.

Both of my kids
and I agreed
not to go

that way again,
then turned back
to the garden.

2.
All day, I sat
in one place,
picturing paradise

lost in fatigued
thoughts about
buying and selling

and how lovely
it was to return
to where even

the fruit was free
for the taking.
I wonder now

if this garden
lives within me
or if someday

I will know it
when I see it,
exclaim out loud,

there it is
and make an offer
on the spot

where I was
given my name:
Chava, Eve.

National Poetry Month is right around the corner. Refuel your spirit after a long winter with Dive Into Poetry, a month-long celebration of poetry, April 1-30. Tiered pricing and all welcome!

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