POETRY
Paradise
We have a black snake in our garden. I watch her
slowly glide among tomatoes and potatoes—nightshades
more poisonous than the snake. Her shiny length is a dark
light amid green humidity of garden rows where she remains
dry and cool. Out of hiding to warm herself on stones,
she seems to grin at my startled whistle.
We see the snake as a friend. She keeps down the rats
and eats the occasional slug. I call her Lucy, and stamp
once or twice to tell her I’m near. She is beautiful and clever.
I envy her sinuous moves, the way she glitters climbing a pole,
bypassing the baffle we constructed. She uses it
as a resting place after eating the baby birds.
Sherry Poff writes in and around Ooltewah, Tennessee. She holds an M.A. in Writing from The University of Tennessee, and is member of the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild. Some of Sherry’s recent work has appeared in Heart of Flesh, Speckled Trout Review and Anthology of Appalachian Writers.
Next (Andrew D. McCartney) >
< Previous (Sarah Tate)
Photo: Anguis niger (black snake), Biodiversity Heritage Library, via Flickr.com. CC BY 2.0 Deed.
Heart of Flesh Literary Journal 