Eve Outside

Earth is hard outside the gate,
bitter plants will grow--
shrunken fruit
brittle stem
rotten root
thistle and soot,
words as sharp as thorns.
When angels guard the garden door,
there is no going back.

Rain falls hard outside the gate,
poured from an ashen sky.
Never again
a gentle mist
the dappled light
a self-forgetful kiss.
Never our call and His welcome reply.
When holy terror stops our cry,
there is no going back.

I keep this memory in heart:
a good day’s work
the whispering air
toes in the stream
soft bed of fern;
my forehead on his shoulder bare
the edges of a dream
the quiet of our sweet return.

* * *

a short walk, some small talk
and Did God really say?

* * *

Hearts grow hard outside the gate,
cracking jars of clay
of beetles and snakes
maggot and worm
shatter and break;
assign the blame
turn and flee
shiver and shame
belong to me.

Send good news outside the gate,
past the altar stained with blood,
find us on this sun-cracked mud.

Crush this demon gliding after me,
lead me to a better door, a different tree.

First published in Foreshadow Magazine, June 28, 2026.