Snake At Noon
It is true that daylight robs,
it pushes us into sights
that we come to question;
such as the python that lay
like a thick ship’s hawser
in the road, and would not
move for my jeep.
In the blinding dark of night
15 wheelers rumble through here,
the snake would be crushed in minutes,
pushed through its skin like a sausage,
but in the hot empty afternoon
heavy traffic growls somewhere else
bypassing eyes and ears
and the python,
its muscular rib cage moving
as slow as molasses
nudges the day sideways
as my engine idles.
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