It Gets Easier

By | 1 May 2020

I see what looks like trouble,
something that doesn’t fit,
a writhing and twisting
near the new-leafed tree
as if two bare branches have fallen but live
their own lives under some dark curse.
What I find is a braid of two snakes
knotting and unknotting
their bodies, heads coral
like the flesh of an unripe peach
and slim cold muscle sliding,
skin countershaded to look
like double-braided rawhide.
Two coachwhips, oblivious
to the world and me.
I have seen single snakes
periscoping from the tall grass
but never two together like this.
So this is where their kind begins.
Somehow, I had never asked this question.
When they untie they fly away over the ground
like ribbons driven by the wind.
Let me tie a knot into the day;
let’s see if the love will stay this time.
I saw what looked like fear
but it was a wreath of beauty,
not disaster. Time heals everything,
everything, I believe it. Every wound
(except a mortal one).

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