In the Orchards of Eden At an outdoor café, we sip margaritas, and my oldest friend says she’s done with all that is dark. From now on she wants only light. I know she’s weary of my darkness and weird fear that too much radiance could pull me from earth before I’m ready. Licking lime and salt from her palm, she reassures me: It’s spiritual, not personal. As girls we ate too many dark fruits. I hear her abandon me along with the tree that fed us and am scared to ask if we’ll meet again for a long birthday lunch. Across the table, backlit by sun, she’s a shadow with a glowing edge. I don’t want to lose her. I want her with me in the spoiled garden, where light and dark are still a pair. Catherine Gonick’s poetry has appeared in publications including Soul-Lit, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Live Encounters, Notre Dame Review, New Verse News, Sukoon, and Forge, and in anthologies including in plein air, Grabbed, and Dead of Winter 2021. She works in a company that combats the effects of global warming.