In a dark garden

Eve:

Once, and that time only, the inquiry crept like heroin

in a panicked dove’s veins, and oh I tell you, how bright and dark

the universe metamorphosed in his caramel pooled eyes! I daren’t attempt

even the slightest remark towards description of such Yin-Yang beauty,

but it concerns me deeply that he does not know, that I cannot say—

well, not aloud. And it became clear, like new windows from a billionaire’s factory,

like a bloody rose on black grave, time and potential moments were fading

too fast, as the Shire horses raced his carriage away.

What would you do, observer, standing there while purpose flies?

Or, of course, perhaps none of this matters to you, but please

show more empathy than my diary; listen affectionately, different from these

square, blank walls. I tried reaching, to hold on to him.

God yes, I’ll admit now that I am alone here:

I love him the way the sun adores the moon; she dies every evening

to give him breath and sky. I cherish him like a drop of water after a month

of thirsting, like the first day of summer after a decade of winter.

I love him beyond the reaches of Heaven, and further.

But I say this to my writing desk, pen, paper, ink, emotionless tiled floor,

and empty bed. How I wish he were lying in it, close to me.

Can my confession secure his warmth? Can it cure bluing ribs?

Any second now, it could all end. Any second, and the ticking

is merciless, and white diamond fever will consume fast.  

Why, when my dream bent down on one knee, was I drunk with silence?

Why didn’t I say—

[Funeral bells chime in the distance.]

Eve: Oh Adam, take me with you!