Outside the Walls

How he had betrayed us,

holding the brutal weapon of love

against our throats-

pale edge of a sacred leaf's promise,

daring us taste the woods beyond

where fragrant roots expanded through

dark musky earth,

damp scent breathing from mosses,

brown mushrooms and naked skin.

If we must hide from him-

his garden where we first woke, now forbidden;

then weep all his sons,

for sorrow's his true name.

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Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.