He entered her earthly garden
without caution or restraint.
The summer's humidity
dulled her conciousness
and the hazy darkness
of the midnight speckled sky
made her the victim within.
The blossoming green apple trees
shook fine prints of shade
across her forehead,
and the dusty milk roses
peaked above
scratchy, fresh cut grass
that reached out to carress
the soreness of dried out feet.
The lovers bubbled with sweat,
drenching their bodies in a raindance.

  Nine months later,
her garden was covered
with velvet moss and spider webbed
queen Anne's lace.
Wilted roses and overgrown grass
no longer clung to tired feet.
Leaves were crinkled gold,
fluttering to the ground,
and exposing the crooked tree limbs.

  Tears cascaded to the bridge of her nose
while the sun died,
allowing a pink champaign sky
to fill her thoughts.
He sucked her last drop
like a breeding leech.
She clenched her baby son
in her arms
and nursed him
with the sweetness
of her own
innocence.