Paradise Dispossessed: Adam’s Song Copyright © 2008 Fraser Harrison

O Eve! My Eve! Mrs Eve!
In dreams I still wake in the garden
where we frolicked with the serpent,
knew our nakedness and rejoiced
among pear trees and wanton pigs.
In joy we brought forth children,
taught the sinless babes to caper,
turned our sweat to sweet wine,
opened our palms to dropping fruit,
ripe, peeled, spiced and chilled.

Now the apple has withered, only its poisonous pip
still juicy. The snake has dried to a rope’s end.
As children must, ours have expelled themselves.
No Fall here, merely the slow collapse
of tired flesh, the drooping of hope.
Our fig leaves conceal betrayals, failures.
Mite by mite we pay our debts,
each coin grated off the other’s soul.

But Eve, innocent Eve,
I love you still. We can return.
The angel at the gate will lift his flaming sword
to light our way. The blighted bud will bloom,
parrots will sing Mozart to monkeys,
our aprons will bear figs,
if only we cleave together, rib of rib,
one flesh, one dust, one heart.