Rousseau's The Dream

Naked, reclining on a couch,
comfortable, self-satisfied,

braids, two tentacles
hanging in high humidity.

The surrounding flora as lush
as green as innocence.

Blue lotuses thrive on dry land,
the moon a mint in a pale jade smudge of sky.

But one of the lions is crouching and looking alarmed
at our intrusion into her world.

The other cocks her head to the lilt of the piper’s song:
tall and tanned and young and lovely –

Wait, is that the piper’s cousin hanging from the vine,
half a chromosome once removed?

The Fall is spreading out in concentric circles:
a beak plucks its first worm, the elephant raises its trunk,

the suddenly shy snake slinks away to brood,
the lions’ stomachs are beginning to growl.

The Darwinian dance is commencing;
It’s time we slowly took our leave.

Rousseau’s The Dream

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