Gardening Eden

Fear is just a symbol
for your ignorance to
wear so that it feels hands
round its neck none will hold,

that cold marble column
round which a parable
unfolds, gripping wholesale
your throat with tales that close

in on your mouth and tell
your tongue to let go, to
relent and swallow whole
this myth another ends

with you having trouble
gardening Eden when

what you preyed upon calls
on heaven to send in
what no prayer can amend,
not since silence foretold

your bitter tendency
to ruin a muscle’s
ability to bend
situations to bold

new whims wimps will struggle
to comprehend, to get,
before work’s finished, pulls
to surface evil’s bland

root, its miserable
fruit what poisons your land.