By Siw Harston
To flee is quite flawed
as the serpent in its seething usurps
to tear your quiet time
with a whip to rip your rest
that blights your thought to bleak
heart-attack, pitch black blows
The python leeches the light so wantonly
that it is squeezed and teased to the taut
meanderings of the mind
to harangue and plague without arrest.
Strange when the dawn strikes
that the vipers disperse and dispatch
so quickly in their shuddering and slithering as they slope
off in a cough to their cave
until next time!