Serpent of Dreams
Joshua Kight – 6/10/18
I see you and your questions, like
“Why had your woman given you this fruit?”
Bitten on the heel by a serpent of dreams.
You, Beheading him with a shovel like slicing an eclair
to drain his last bit of poisonous advice
Stirring it in Red Wine
So you can march on.
I hear your voice on the serrated edge
that is poised at my wrist.
Asking the next question
“Who can I blame this on?”
You threaten the peace with a flurry of verbs
unless I see the same holes in the ground as you.
You have movies in your mind
with mirror-lit eyes that must choose
between the extremes of light and a dark ditch
where you can’t see the dismay around you.
The fields in front of you are covered
with the wounded, crying
for a last drop of mother’s milk
before going to the other world,
Where roiled soil settles at last
and every viper’s tongue is left wriggling in the mud
under foot while you embrace sweet sleep
as your last best lover.
Feature photo: Georgia Red Mud Painter