Tuesday, October 25, 2005

The Snake Speaks, After All These Years

I am naked
sitting on these concrete stairs
between door and street

and the sun chases shadows
to the corner
and the lights go green and red.

Windows are closed to October
to the sounds tree bones make
with cold wind—

I am naked
and the garbage waits
to be picked up Thursday.

On the skin of the snake
always shedding
and growing

I am naked and though I recall
the beauty of Eve
before societies

the truth bores under my skin
and I am as naked as
one drop of water

in a storm-tossed ocean—
as naked
and as alone.

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