Julie's Eden

In Eden,

there is a serpent


in a tethered noose,

suckling precious aquifers,

draining desert-water,

feeding a voracious appetite

of thirsty lawns

and shiny cars

and clearing chalk

from egg-fried sidewalks

blistering in the heat.


Julie smiles

from behind

a windowsill

above the kitchen sink

where planted Orchids

grow nectar-sweet

with the luscious


and seductive


of antidepressants,

apple-pie apron strings,

and white-picket fences.


she hears them dying;


vibrating succulent

broad leaves

warm in the sunlight

of honeybees gathering

the sweet nectar

of Aphrodite.


From open thighs

chitinous and black

nimble legs brush

at tender pollen;

succulent clumps

of creation spread

by obsessive desires,

the lust for amber ambrosia,

the cheery happiness

of dandelion mana


and invincible.


So cruelly manicured

by the blunt machetes

of guillotine devices,

spiralling and gnawing,

growling and chopping,

in the name

of homogenous desire;

a perfect emerald lawn

in an Arizona desert

fed by nitrogen-phosphates

and the horrid xenophobia

of herbicides.

And these  butter-soft

milky flowers,

are unwanted guests

in the placenta

of suburban spring.


© Christopher Raine