our life’s fabric

according to an elder i met in new mexico,

eden’s serpent was cotton-mouthed.


the hooked-tooth fish-eater came to the garden

drawn by her sea scent and his dry speech drew the dewy doe.


satan shared sere spills of softly spoken superstitions.


he took the knowledge as cider soothing his burning tongue.

she took the knowledge as nakedness and fear burning all.


an angel, a demon, and confucious

an angel, a demon, and confucious perform a tchaikovsky ballet on a copper needle head,

as the llamas and camels jump through its azure eye.

they leap into each other to odette’s song.

never mindful, they swivel, sip ambrosia, and sundry speak.

“i am condemned, because i was created most beautiful, and i proclaimed i was the light,” the demon confesses.

“beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart,” confucious advises.

“i am condemned, because i was created with no heart,” the angel wails.

the two look down at their feet and jump through the needle,

leaving two half filled waterford pieces, two sets of sandy footprints,

and negative space to build and grow.