The snake was pale gold
Glazed & shrunken.
We were afraid to
touch it.
The sheets were hot dead prisons.
And she was beside me.
Old, she's numb.
Her dark, red hair,
The
white soft skin.
Now, run to the mirror in the bathroom,
Look!
She's coming in here
I can't live thru each slow century of her moving.
I let my cheek slide
down
The cool smooth tile
Feel the good cold stinging blood
The
smooth hissing snakes of rain...