Dear Fearless Readers,
Congratulations, you are about to read a long poem that might not be a poem. It will test the limits of your focus. Clearly, I am not a salesman. My work stands on its own or it doesn’t. I dunno. Something something blah blah persistent failure is the ladder of mastery…or maybe a sign to find a new passion?
(I have made some heavy edits versus the book version. It’s a better turd now.)
Yours in the madness,
—C
Girl and Snake
Through branches thick, fighting Over thorn draped fences, climbing Into icy waters, stepping This, her storied remembering Then smoke seen rising Then brambles clearing Then trees thinning Then green grass stretching ‘Round a leafless corpse’s last stand She spies yellow trimmed white Four corners, shingle-capped Where a chimney’s grey tail floats A window, a door A chair perched porch Dew licked bare feet Ragged hem grassblood stained She approaches wary For a mismatched staircase greets her Numbered short A flight of three Decayed with grey paint curl-flakes Above, the well-kept porch beckons They will betray me... Yet there’s only three. Upon wormwood step, first of three Her wild weight offered carefully Rot confesses with hollow groans A word from the wise: Don’t stand still on lies. Woodmoan rattles memory’s chains Whispers what always comes next She steps quickly to second of three Don’t run, child. Be brave. Handrail snapping in her hand Second cracks underfoot and arms reel Third then, before second swallows NO! ...is this another carrot trap? The treachery plain on three Splintertoothed voids, broken board maws And through the gaps something lurks Her footfall careful turns stutter-step scream A serpent winds out of the dark's secrets Up through the falsework, its eyes frosted “Easy, I’m not what I may seem,” The snake offers. “A lesson men taught by devouring my flesh,” She counters. A slow hiss-sad recognition escapes his form Sunbathed scales turning iridescent He stretches forth “But men they weren’t...just hiding their truth. Beneath suit and skin, lay fur and fang, yes?” “True, but what of you then,” She asks, frozen. Blue-black and legless he crawls Creeps up past three to porchtop Where his darkness curls, pauses “I once was a boy, I think. Before I was force fed the shadows of long-dead tyrants.” A gunshot as three’s crossbeam shatters She tips back, then lunges As fire blooms from her eyes Landing hard, arms and legs splay Upon the porch Face first she slides Greets a scaly vision too close Her’s tigerflecked His a milky-blank Eyes lock as time stands waiting His restless forktongue first to set time moving “Do it. Strike me. It was your plan,” She surrenders bitterly. “It certainly was not. I feared you lost. I have not arms to catch nor eyes to see.” He yawns wide An offering of human teeth Her terror deer-feral shifts to flee An abomination worse than terror expected “What are you?” She barks, bolting upright. “A lie, I think.” “I know lies. Wolves never reveal themselves until they dine. But you are obvious...a lie you tell yourself?” “Yes. I suspect so.” Warmth remembered of a sun forgotten Presses both skin and scale A biting oddity almost painful This place sharp with peace “What is this place?” She wonders warily. “A warmth beckoned me out the chilled dark. What do you see?” He answers and questions with eyes lidless and smoke-filled. Old companions A long skirt dances above feet She steps toward the curtain-framed glass Peering, her face softens from its harrowed lines “A rug loom-wove bears a pillowed couch and A stone hearth cradles flame through a window I see. A door wooden with brass knob the entry. A table chair stands with us on a porch.” “A home? Knock, would you?” Snake begs. Door greets with an unowned welcoming Delicate fingers curl to knock gently Her sleave falls from arm’s catch Unveiling a skin's tale of struggle’s scars The door answers With silence “Try the knob,” The handless serpent coaxes. “To try feels wrong even as the door whispers to open it. I shouldn’t.” “Maybe you tell yourself lies too. Try.” Heart begs as old voices sing favorite refrains Fingers wrap warm sunsparked brass Wrist twists The unyielding answer blows a familiar cold soulward “It’s locked, and the door without a keyhole,” Wet with tears she sighs, collapsing in the lone chair. "What now? I don’t want to go back to the woods.” “Nor I to the shadows and cold. This is enough, for now I guess.” “I guess,” she echoes. Shared silence evidence of their fate resigned Stilled even is the threatening woods Stalking from pasture’s green borders Unknown whether in wait or respect Snake uncoils, tongue tasting where she rests. “I have an uncomfortable request— Would you be brave enough to hold me? Cold’s indifference is my memory’s only known companion.” Bending down her hands scoop With unhesitant surprise Pulls him to her lap Her touch reading more of his story “A molting of sorts I hope,” he confesses. “My vision lost, as it began.” “Will you stay here with me, however long we are allowed?” The need fighting to be spoken, she braces for pain’s reply. Without a word Snake slides from her lap Wraps gently his length around her waist And swallows his tail
Why am I doing this? Maybe this will answer the question.
This piece is beautifully visual. So many perfect descriptions of the eyes.