The
serpent
in the garden
has
coiled round you,
around
your feet.
It’s
found you in
your apple orchard,
naked
in the blossom:
a full moon in full
bloom. It’s licking
the tongue of air,
your
scent a fragrant
streak
of hair.
It
hisses, hiss hiss hiss hiss
but what it means
is
kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!
You’ve
put it on its belly
and
it’s beguiled, writhing dustily
before
your beauty’s sapphire aura.
There’s
a taste on its fork now
looming.
Drunkenly, it rises
coiling,
question mark to
exclamation, straightened
out, tall and proud.
But
how?
gasps the man.
The shaman-woman,
soothing, says,
Easy: where
once was
snake,
I made
you
human.
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