Snake

 I saw a young snake glide
Out of the mottled shade
And hang, limp on a stone:
A thin mouth, and a tongue
Stayed, in the still air.


It turned; it drew away;
Its shadow bent in half;
It quickened and was gone

I felt my slow blood warm.

I longed to be that thing.

The pure, sensuous form.


And I may be, some time.

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