Life in the Garden

When I lived in the garden
I had wings.
I flew to the sun, to Neptune.
I flew with grace
Like an eagle or hawk,
Unselfconscious.
Muscles and bones and feathers
Did the work
So I was free
To contemplate the sharpness of grass,
The determined scrambling of black ants,
The saturated pigments
Of daffodils, petunias, and chrysanthemums.
I flew through clouds and made them rain,
I buzzed UFOs,
I raced with angels.

Now I live in the house.
Pieces of my body have been removed
One by one.
The wings were the first to go.
My arms are now
Thalydimide flippers.
My penis has been replaced
By a vacuum hose.
I've got pecs from a
Charles Atlas ad.
My brain was scooped out
And a scholarly book inserted.
My parents gave me
A new face,
A frozen visage,
But I kept my own eyes
Which stare out, prisoners.

David Aronson