do you think we’re ever going to forgive each other?
she holds her face to the ocean wind
hair whipping behind her

we already have
but we can’t move on
his fingers brush through the wind and hair

let’s start over
she shifts in the sand
he remains quiet
they watch the sun rise
sand stinging their legs

under a glass cloche
she sets to work whistling
shrill and unimaginative notes
-a starling having heard only one bird
and none else

with a flourish
she produces an apple
and eats with relish
-Eve’s second bite

her shape changes
now a little dragon
perches beneath the unyielding roof
-wingspan much too large to stretch

then another metamorphosis
into a plump lady
keening for breath

tapping at the glass