Franz Wright

Naked in the Garden

Folder: 
Poetry

 

She ran from him just fast enough so he could catch her, and he followed as he knew he should. When the wind blew and the leaves on the trees rustled, you would expect them to feel the chill of the air but between them there was only heat. It emitted from every pore, from every breath, from every inch of them both. For the first time in his life he could feel the rotation of the earth. In fact, he swore he could hear it move. No quiet night had ever been so loud. No act of defiance had ever been so in tune with its surroundings. She ran from him just fast enough so he could catch her, and he followed as he knew he should. Until she stopped to turn and face him, by a tree — near a brook — and with one look, they were naked in the garden.