WATER, SNAKE

In the end it seeped in,

calm, silent water, looking harmless,

creeping like a snake toward your feet,

as unsteady light

sliding beneath a door, past a window,

say the dim light of 5AM,

faint but unstoppable,

a tail

        a

          snake’s

                      tail

slowly winding, insinuant curve

so easily missed or ignored.

How a quarter hour

stretches to a life.

Footsoles soaked,

your heart swamped, it’s too late

despite the hurried wind, insistent rain, you can only behold

this leaching, this uncertainty

of mute light, a tail

                        a

            snake’s

        tail

hypnotic, soothing,

slipping in

past the door,

past the window,

past each pore of the soul.