|
Snake Dreams
Last night I dreamed a rattlesnake
moved into my house like
it was his and he was home at last.
In his slick belly a lump
exactly the shape and size of a
hummingbird throbbed like a heartbeat
and I swear I saw a smile
on those reptile lips. Even the cats,
mean as mountain lions, ducked behind chairs
then hightailed it out of there
when he trilled his tongue.
Let's just let him have the place, I said.
I've been wanting a larger house,
a smaller house, whatever.
But my sister stepped toward him,
let him nudge her leg like a colt
then strangled him with her fingers,
pinching just below those green eyes.
He played the tambourine until he dropped.
Now I know there are many things
to be wary of besides rattlers.
I know too what they say about
snake dreams, that I am running from
some man, or ought to be.
But it was only yesterday I was thinking,
Spring is coming to these hills.
See how pale green splatters against
winter-burned trees, red Judas bleeds
like birth. Stand at the top
where rattlesnakes are waking up, and
look down at the twisting North Fork,
how it yawns and stretches then coils,
pulsing with the overflow of the season,
see how it spills out and moves in,
brown and venomous.
|