Snake In the Grass
I wonder ...
Could this be mine -
this shadowed heart, a-thrum?
It begs me stop, for its cold intent ...
your words, those phrases I have ached for,
(stolen by me in secret, hidden among your precious roses),
given to another on a golden tray of kisses -
their keen edge like the beak of a chisel
to rend the rocky pounding in my chest and mind,
and leave all faiths and fancies in ruin.
I am a petty little beast,
tucked away in the dark and dirt ...
fitting that my sordid spying be done here,
where the fruit of your favors blooms so sweetly.
But, like the blood of our love, (that now courses and weeps at once),
it hides the thorns that rake my skin -
that sign this bent deed upon me in crimson -
that answer the question that has haunted my existence -
and turned me to this snake ...
In the grass.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "N-A Rerun 5" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
Written December 31, 2019
N/A'd in the "Listening In" Poetry Contest
Judged January 12, 2020
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