River Phoenix
Black snake
slith belly
dream and lang
with nowhere to be
and not very fast
senses us in wait
stops to tongue air
diamond fang a-shine
neon yellow glow
in some dankity fog morning
drip, drip, drop,
small venom biding
in a wide S form
heft and curve, tall grasses.
We remember how our grandfather
had to chop ones head off,
a menace to chickens,
the way everything turns
its tongue out
when life leaves it.
Will there be snakes in California?
Living in palm trees?
Lying to us about paradise
like Eden.