The snake,
black beauty,
four feet dead,
broken, still
in death,
curves of serpentine grace.
My wife,
oblivious,
stepped over the enemy of Eve,
a root among rocks,
a silenced fang.
I saw the snake,
froze in fear,
or was it fascination,
could not step over it,
stuck staring
on the trail.
This legless mind,
this slithering spine,
this ancient challenger,
whispering from the dust of death,
“Show respect. Go around..”
1999