Adam and Eve Put her to sleep By a rosy flame In the nested deep. I swore I could lose her Before sunrise, For her sickness swelled, As her chest rose and fell With laboring breaths Of a winded bird. Adam and Eve saw the snake I was, Told me that they'd obey Whatever I said On command of the dead. Soon, no mountain did reach its peak, No breast did raise in her sleep, Her beauty folded over in the palest sleek, While I showered tears upon my feet. I listened to my cries, Shortening my goodbyes To a mere fallen whisper. When Adam and Eve inquired my presence, Knew my grief to be false, Knew my dread To come from a cloud far above my head, It was not one creator of love, Who took her above. It was a man, With broken hands, Who instead, Brought her bread, made from answers unsaid. Alien he was, Though knew himself to never exist. A mere pauper Loved and watched her die, To rain from himself the boldest goodbye. I said to Adam and Eve To let her be.