Garden of Eden

Amy Jarvis

turn yourself into a field, scatter the ashes out on the ground
into shapes of the women you wish you could have become. there is
horror here but it still feels like home

you don’t believe in salvation anymore but you should make them all stand trial & honey keep your eyes on heaven, but don’t you dare pray toward it:
forgiveness won’t find you at sunrise anymore

send them all to war because of how much it aches in the hollow of your chest
& you’re a smoking gun, a silver bullet, a halo of unholy
bite down & take it baby, because it was always meant to end like this &

it’ll take you in flames before it’ll ever take him, but don’t take it personal
make them wish they’d swallowed their words while you
rise with the beginning of the world

Amy Jarvis majors in creative writing at Susquehanna University, and originally hails from Rhode Island. She’s a lover of light, a hopeless romantic, and she’s really trying her hardest to not use Icarus for herself in everything she writes.