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Snake on Side
Gary Langford
When this happens we look at headlines,
glad we aren't there. Most are morbid,
we are incapable of treating good news seriously,
such as, no children were abused today,
not a single murder, empty hospitals.
We suspect goodness as lies.
Snakes knows this never happens,
enraptured by fallout of the human heart,
often defined as, clinical depression,
the one who has dived under the surface,
resurfacing in horror, blanching forward.
We want wings to take us above all,
here the atmosphere cherishes.
Snake calls these fantasies, encouraging them,
all on the soft slopes of desire,
the poppy-fields we lie down in,
believing in alchemy.
When we sleep above the camps of wire,
when we grow tired and sell our homes and shares,
cast off all possessions,
we are in the straight line,
refusing to take thoughts from strangers,
raising our heads into the rain.
Then we realise what life has always had,
that Snake is in our arms,
folding each one back,
and we lie in bed, talking to ourselves,
no longer embarrassed as Snake crawls,
sea calls, and we fall forward into the water.
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