Eden
Nocturne No. 2
Like me, you worshipped stories’ old Embellishments—fixing your eyes On founding roots, on framing vines— Until your young attention failed That there is any breed of Heaven We can speculate no more— Though buried in the rearview mirror There has to be a speck of Eden No choice now but to send you back And tell myself you’ve sent me on That you might keep a piece of lawn Where history’s blade springs green from cracks



[cover image: Andre Kertesz]