the garden of eden has cracked,the grass is parched, yellowing
beneath the sun
~
and the moon - she
can't give rain, only shadow.
~
yet on this, volcanic rock,
pain in the paint grows hope -
the "t" that is left, the cross i bear
and how!
~
death has danced away
from fear in the face of life -
my love - take the red of my cuts
and feed the sun while by the
moon, my tides swing and sway
in the Tehuana-clad rhythms
~
of countless surgeries.
hortensia anderson
