Georgia clay runs red like blood
in crucifixes carved in uneven ground
which will grow crops, groaning as all earth groans,
under the burden of feeding man.
She was Eve again–naked
in a garden
with a man.
And there was not a fruit tree in sight.
Sarah Gane Burton is a freelance writer and copyeditor. She lives in Tallahassee, Florida with her husband, toddler, and dog. She enjoys hot baths, consuming books, collaborative cooking, chasing her daughter around the house, and going for long walks with her family. Her poetry has appeared in Medical Literary Messenger, Third Wednesday, Mothers Always Write, Likely Red Press, and Spectrum Magazine.