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.