Rocksteady in Dimension X

No longer interested in evil,

the soul turns on its back

at the watering hole, kicks its muscled legs.

Everything goes neon pink

and green in the noonday sun

when I press my thumbs

to my little black eyes. My snout,

wet with its own abundant grease,

smells nothing of threat,

of consequence. I put my hands

behind my head, I have no

bidding to do. My feet go up

on the desk, a woman appears

at my side. This is what I’ve earned

in Eden. The right to close my eyes

when the camouflage trousers

come wading through

the apple blossom’s slough —

and the dream of myself as a baby

emerging from the mortal

body, hoof by gleaming hoof.