She holds the snake like a baby
its weight makes her back slacken
she watches its face to see what its eyes are thinking
the wrinkles of its scales
so soft and cool
but under that
it moves like water
or the growth of certain vines - sped up
holding the snake
makes her fear slacken
all that worry the world piles over her
like water like air like wind
is smoothed aside
the snake holds her like a tree
its body a loophole
the artisan of slide
the massage its length
firming but gentle
she is warm, so warm
her blood pulse a reassuring
life token, standing
standing treelike the
carbon dioxide of her breath
Ha. That is a wonderful poem too. (I was born in a Snake Year, and then I was lucky to be taught early on in life to have no problems with snakes...in general. Like most creatures, they are rather special! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Rob. You've got to give them respect don't you?
DeleteI love this..amazing poem, and a fearless child :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Efi. Amazing boa - no feathers in sight!
ReplyDeleteOh they do move like that, and feel like that, they're quite mesmerising. So well conveyed.
ReplyDeleteI love the rhythm of this poem, Lucy. And wow, what a photo. Thank you for all the images.
ReplyDelete