Judy Wells Poet
Berkeley, CA
jwellspo
Jane, Jane, 1981
SNAKE WOMAN
“And sometimes the snakes
hiss me to madness”
so she says
She hears them
coiling round her brain
They infect
her nose, ears, and eyes
Snake mouth
Snake speech
She, the woman
The snake snake woman
with her charms
lacks
the warmth, the blood
the red, red color
on her lips
cheeks
She, the woman
The snake snake woman
lacks
heart
warm blood
warm touch
Baby in her arms
She, the baby
The rock a bye baby
is a snake snake woman
coiled
curled
poised
snake snake woman ssssss
snake snake woman ssssss
cold blood
cold heart
cold touch
She, meanwhile, was alone
When she was thirteen
she kept
a collection of horses
by her bedside
She told her girlfriend
they moved at night
neighing and pawing
the table top
Her friend was mad
pragmatic
How could
that plaster and plastic move?
Twenty years later
her friend was married
Two children
A small house in a small town
She put up preserves
and packed her husband’s lunch
She, meanwhile,
was alone
Saw an eye
in the palm
of her hand
Painted a picture
of a woman
in the desert
Blood pouring
from some invisible wound
The woman was so faint
The blood so red
She wanted to visit the desert
It came to her mind
Not spacious
Not spiritual
but crowded with thorns
and sand storms
and killer men
and plotting women
So, when the horse
black and sleek
the one she rode
by her bedside
the one with green
luminous eyes
came
She rode him
off the edge
of a building
The sun did not stop
shining
Copyright 2015 Judy Wells.
Berkeley, CA
jwellspo