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.