Eve in Her Garden

Are you here now, in this green nursery
with me? I see your hand
in its creation and wonder--
if this is all that is left of you. I know
you designed me too, half of an undivided
pair. We continue to work--
a survival we do not understand. This garden
has become a schoolyard, for the children
you do not divulge to. Forgotten
lesson plans and speculations
form the roots and wicks, from which we grapple
in the darkness. I wish
you would answer, if not in words
then in the space between them. The space
where artists see heaven again
and toil matures into reflection.
I will always look for you here, in this graveyard
of bruised rose petals.

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