Eden

If I could through you, my secret garden, go
threading bare feet carefully amongst
your blooms and vines,
I would with loving fingers brush
away those fearsome thorns
rioting like snakes in
your grassy undergrowth

And if I could I would clutch
great fistfuls of you, my good earth,
dark and leafy-rich; and
lifting you to my face, inhale
your life-filled fecundity;
and rub you like stain into the skin
of my breasts and belly

and if I am burned by the sun of your smile: I don't care
and if I am torn by the teeth of your thorns: I don't care

if the seeds of joy I
sprinkled in your furrows grow
nothing but weeds: what does it matter?

my breath like a breeze as it
rustles the leaves of the apple tree whispers:
I want you, I want you

Hear my breath as I whisper: I want you