Eve’s Second Garden
Filled with succulents and spines
that scratch her legs and break
off inside, so Adam has to pinch
her skin, then suck and bite
the sliver, his teeth the only tweezers
yet invented. Nothing requires much
water. Five months drought each winter
turns prickly pears brilliant purple
before they die. Yucca shade hides
the snakes, so she rustles the grass
with a sotol stalk. Frightened, they rattle.
She freezes and listens to them promise,
“Our kisses turn you brilliant purple.”
—Marcus Goodyear, from Barbies at Communion
T. S. Poetry Press, 2010
