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horatioalone) wrote2023-10-09 04:32 pm
horatioalone) wrote2023-10-09 04:32 pm
The Serpent
Pink light hits the gutter.
The serpent’s awake.
The heat is relentless,
the air seems to shake.
She puts on a dress
made of rat skins and lace.
The darkness has eaten
away at her face.
These crystalline mornings,
who needs them at all?
They come for her, horselike,
rearing and tall.
There’s no room for a serpent
in the heaven of things.
She must live in the gutter.
And still—still she sings.
The serpent’s awake.
The heat is relentless,
the air seems to shake.
She puts on a dress
made of rat skins and lace.
The darkness has eaten
away at her face.
These crystalline mornings,
who needs them at all?
They come for her, horselike,
rearing and tall.
There’s no room for a serpent
in the heaven of things.
She must live in the gutter.
And still—still she sings.