Sunday, 7 April 2013

The Serpent in the Garden

                                                       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

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