Sibilance of slither:
Sunlight playing on his scales
Shining chords of light.
On thy belly, pressed as close to earth as skin can be,
a forced embrace of thy mortality
Licking dust until the day to dust thou shalt return,
Tasting ev'ry day the death that comes
And does the bitter venom of this fate
squeeze out the life still nascent in thy birth?
And as thy path twists serpentine away,
dost thou take warmth or coldness from the earth?
There is a writhing in your eyes,
coiled deep inside those constricted pupils,
that no tail of snake can match,
and I freeze in fear for the strike.
Shed this skin, so dry--you're itching to be free
and feel the green caress of grass.
Wind 'round rocks and sit, silent, scale on stone;
raise your head and taste the thirsty air.
without wings, free of fingers, snake senses all
Jul 11, 2010