Eve

Death clings to the creak of wood
the soft split of living time

when you step away from the ribbed
road to your future, you hear

the grainy breath of lumber

knowledge is harvested
from seed to skin, surface all

death’s envy lingers in his fingers
in the splints of his brittle heart

wormed thought shrivels in the sun

death and god are in cahoots
damming the rush of spilling juice

fruit’s sweet joy is forbidden
to the dry scythe of yellow teeth

devouring the heartcore of lust
you will not be bound desire

your belly harbours bounty

light showers your lifted head
hungry arms embrace apples abundance

the dogs have a new mistress

soil roils beneath your tread
swirling rich earthy dust to savour

you will escape unenlightened eden 
language bursting from your breast

walk on Eve, you know more than them
these   
              watchful             
                                    rigid                
                                                restraining                      
                                                                             men


​
published in The Ekphrastic Review March 2025

​© Simon Parker