A too-true image of bliss,
its old haunting smell, and
the past lost days
unroll before me —

Snake,
coiled to strike, laughs
when he remembers
I’ve already been bitten.

Two long-bright-red gashes
glisten and drip
under the moonlight

where we once played
as children
beneath Sycamore trees,
fire-flies dancing
circles in the air –

His teeth quickly entered
soft tissue under warm skin,
blood of life pouring
from a wound that never healed.

Coiled,
to strike again:
a monster from Sunday School –
taught red-eyed and slithering,
foul-beast to avoid – but

every school child knows your part
in the degradation of Eve –
her life changed forever by your smile.

~February 2012

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