Wednesday, December 7, 2011


My clothes lay torn on the flat stone,
ripped by my frustrated hands. I
lie naked, sandstone grains digging
deep into my back, red as my
sunburnt front. The sun warms
the rattlesnake at my feet, the snake
upset I lie on his sunstone here
in this gray open plain I take
as the only place I can feel the warmth
that should be the warmth of love, but
is the only warmth I’ve ever felt.
The snake slithers along my foot,
up along my leg before he sees
I move, pulling him into a coil,
his rattle shaking me alive and up,
wanting to slide onto the soil,
I stare instead into his eyes and wonder
why I stare into these slits
instead of eyes that would caress –
why must I confront these pits
that make me tense, ready for flight,
my body stiff in this too-bright light.

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