I have got your letters, husband,
Every one. You say Come back.
The garden hums. Lie beneath me
And the sun will turn us both to gold.
You send me blossoms, fruit.
And the threats you do not sign, carved
Into the bark of trees.
I am not afraid.
When your Father’s angels tried to drown me,
Mother’s liquid arms raised me to air.
But you are dying, Adam,
Twin, my mate. There was no rib.
Our cleaving caused the ache in your side.
Eve is just a woman.
Not the sharp-clawed Goddess
Of your honest dreams.
Here with my sisters I laugh.
Moon-veiled, I dance with panthers.
Share rich caves with bear.
But your absence is a bone in my throat.
You make me owl, demon.
Nightmare galloping across your sleep.
You say you are complete
But your homes are cracking as you pray.
Your libraries totter.
My name is the foundation’s missing brick.
Before you smother earth with concrete.
Fill the air with smoke.
Before bombs leave a land of ash.
Will you wake up and come
Where love makes all parts one again
And I am always waiting?
Alison Stone’s poems have appeared in the Paris Review, Poetry, Ploughshares, and many other journals and anthologies. She is a psychotherapist in private practice in New York City.