Touring Eden

We bump and roll across sand dunes
covered in beach grass, sapphire lupine.
Broken cypress bisect skinny fields
of pink and white callas.

A dark turkey hawk
spirals above wet lilies,
his nervous talons
clawing, unclenching.

We squeeze through tight gates,
miles of dripping barbed wire fencing.
From our soft bus seats,
we watch hard brown women,
faces wrapped in bandanas.

They wade through pale blooms,
snap nonconforming flower heads
from brilliant rogues
to prevent their reseeding.

Throughout the tour,
I see culled bunches
of curled petals fading,
think of your eyes during love,
feel myself growing
dangerously gaudy with passion.