SNAKESKIN

Something calls me

where I can’t hear,

shimmering beyond the wall

where I can’t see.

Out there, impulsive wind.

Here, green figs climbing.

Show me

the exquisite skin,

transparent, each scale hexagonal,

vulnerable to pain,

incomplete,

fractured,

alive.

Scented junipers

hide ambush in the hills.

Something sheds its flesh

but does not speak.

Where a snake enters earth

the breeze tastes sharpened air.

I’ve come to know

little by little

a blood red being

in the dark of night

flashing dimly green.