floating and leaving no trace
i crawl upon the earth
on my belly
like a snake
without benefit of limbs
i could coil myself
into a figure eight
the symbol for infinity
or shed my skin
and other symbol
this time for renewal
and immortality
or bite my tail
encircling the world
but the world has been
unkind to snakes
and i think i would
rather find some shade
than be a symbol
i have nothing
left to lift
not my hands
not my eyes
nor raise my ire
peace is all
overwhelming
turgidity
slowness that is stillness
unmoving like summer rain
or heavy syrup
heavy as the earth
beneath my feet
i shed my skin
one last time
with no intent
of emerging clad
in a new glistening
sheath
teeth are gross
basically
it’s your skeleton
tearing through
your skin
where it’s weakest
where the “in” funnel
opens the food tunnel
to that snake inside you
we’re all the serpent
in the garden
trying to slough off
skin
to live forever
on someone else’s dime
but who wants to live
forever when your bones
are trying to escape
by ripping to shreds
everything that tries
to enter you
it got so damn hard
with these extra limbs
the difference between
sliding off a sock
and struggling out
of a straightjacket
when the world was new
and the sky was still
a thing of darkness
the animals strove to
fill it up with light
the lion
climbed the highest tree
filling the air with
the thunder of his roar
he became the sun
the fox
curled into a circle
near a lake where
her reflection blurred
and she became the moon
while the cat and the snake
argued over who would accompany
the fox in her nightly journeys
they did not see the finch
pluck hair from the lion’s mane
from the fox’s tail
and scatter them
through the darkness
paranoia sits in my chest
a fist clenched around my heart
so quick it must be a snake
envenomed and eager to strike
every thought a judgment
every word a pointed finger
it’s so boring
to try to not be that way
so exhausting that i
let my gorge rise
open my mouth
and let the snake out
shadow puppet of a serpent
a hand shaped like the devil’s head
fingers curled into a fist
but still spitting poison
from my bloody, beating heart
extruded from my own life
like a play doh snake
i await my new skin
with trepidation
will it be scales this time
or flames
or just ashes
transformation is
always like childbirth
only you’re forcing yourself
out of your own birth canal
–if you have one–
and you’re never really sure
what’s coming
until it’s out
the snake gets called out
for being
subtle
crafty
cunning
depending on who’s translating
adam and eve just
took advantage of his offer
recognizing in it
a kindred spirit
an alimentary canal
that slithered on its belly
consuming and expelling
everything in its wake
an ouroboros, a midgard serpent
the whole human condition
wrapped up in a constantly renewing skin
desire and rejection moving us forward
fear and anger and compassion
like arms and legs that sprouted later
and tried to pull us in different directions
many masters of a single-minded
eating and shitting clockwork
Words and Feathers 