Eden in the Rearview Mirror
Evening, and the river.
You reach in, pocketing a green furred stone.
Change the river,
At first the world was yours but you owned nothing.
Now, only ache.
You’re sick from this fruit.
The horizon in you starts to climb.
Everything left behind
tiger lilies by the back fence,
The sheer silk of the river wrinkling
You’re already gone.