Eve.(Poem)

 
EVE 
 
   I never knew what you saw in yourself, 
   but you'd have given yourself lovely notices, 
   counting my ribs to see if one were missing. 
 
   The hot and bothered noons lure Cuban anoles 
   to the verge--dark, bullet-eyed immigrants. 
   Our native patrician species, less seen every summer, 
 
   has taken to the trees, forsaken as gods. What changes 
   changes so slowly not even memory can be precise. 
   The past comes round like a salesman again-- 
 
   who would have thought the …