It is the dog door and the picket fence.
It is the malicious world destroyed in you.
And your name is writ in dust
Spelled out in coils of your sloshing yellow belly
Eve smiles at you from the kitchen table
Pieces of fruit are stuck in her teeth.
A river of spittle pauses on her chin
And drips down onto her warm breast.
It is the kind of happiness
The dog door happiness
That inspired the snake to eat its own tail.