 |
A s
i f
I
h
a
v e
n ’t
got
enough
to think about,
there's a silver
python curled
up in the
chicken
coop. It's
eaten two
of the
chicks. As
I write, they're
in there being digested, the
small bulges with sharp points for the tiny beaks.
I think the python is the same one
we caught swallowing
Bruce the Rooster.
At least the
old rooter
fought back.
To just up
and go, to
slide down
the world's
throat with-
out a sound.
Was there
nothing you
had to say to
me? Noth-
ing to ask?
To plead?
This time
I called the
snake man and he’s
on his way. To be honest,
I’d rather smash the bloody thing
with a spade and spread its silvery entrails
under the avocado trees. But the snake man won't
have it (and I can’t be sure it's all
that easy to kill.) He
says he'll hold onto
the python until
it's digested
its dinner
and then
let it go up
country.
Odd place
Australia:
far too
m a n y
snakes and
not enough
rain. I miss
the bush.
I miss
sss
ss
u.
As told to me once by a friend with a chicken coop.
Photo by Dermal Denticles (photostream on Flickr).
Photo by Dermal Denticles (photostream on Flickr).
For more Tuesday Poems click on the quill in the sidebar. Yesterday's post here looks at The Best of the Best NZ Poems (VUP) - a new book just out.
