Signs of Life after Eden
She might as well have been
an oven
baking sweet wheat, brown berry bread
the way we watched her, from
the first moment she told us, we waited
and watched,
watched and waited.
Flat.
Like unleavened bread
she was at first,
until it seemed incredulous, hardly
possible to believe that any
thing was inside of her
but what is inside us all.
But before too long
we knew we were wrong.
She swelled.
She rose up to the occasion
like dawn.
Like the first beautiful morning
after
the
fall.
Notes:
From A Train Called Judah (Eden Press, 1998). Reproduced with permission of Nina Rodgers Gordon.
This poem is part of the portfolio “Carolyn Marie Rodgers: What Beauty We Now Have” from the October 2022 issue.
Source:
Poetry
(October 2022)
