from Epistles to Eve

Peering into the mists back to Eden
I see you cultivate the gallant walks
Against the chaos your grasping will had seeded.
Hand in hand, you left sweet Paradise locked.
Now I am turned, viewing you over the rim
Of morning, your progeny toasting your faith,
Death’s nemesis, the light surrounding him
With Mary singing. The way to you is death.
Crossing the river, drowning, losing my will
Fearing the lawless one roaring behind,
Flesh struggling, gasping, feeling its marble chill
Creep up my limbs, into a darkened mind—
Shine, lovely Eve, point me to your Son
Your curiosities feeding all he has won.