On the top of a hill
out in the barrens
stands a three story house
with two windows
on each side
on each floor;
an old house
with plaster falling off
here and there
walls, fanned and cracked
soiled and weather-beaten;
by the house stands and breathes
a leafless tree
aged and wearied
its massive trunk bubbling up
from thick gnarled roots
windblown and twisted
it seeps into
a first floor window
like a giant winding snake
whose head then splits
and emerges out two windows
each on the second floor
each a corner apart;
several subsidiary branches
continue
backwards and forwards
in and out of the house
in and out of the windows
yet always up and away;
the tree trunk
a hydra folding into itself
and into the house
every which way possible
a fusion of house and tree
until the tree finally breaks free
into a network of slender tendrils
that gently surrounds the house
and protects it
a soft halo
that quivers and shakes
in the dry wind
that sweeps over the hill
and has done so
every day
for as long as
anyone can remember.
The cold movement
of the serpent
around your body
as it begins to squeeze
frosty scales
across burning flesh
a firm embrace
a powerful extended arm
holding you securely
desire and hunger mingled
finally fused
the flicker of the forked tongue
across the nape of your neck
a sensuous kiss
a venomous bite
mutual sleep.
He said,
Eve sinned first.
She said,
Eve was told
she’d surly die
on the day she ate from the tree,
did she?
He said,
I’m not sure
but she definitely didn’t
have a good day.
– matt at shadow of iris
[First verse inspired by a work of Zdzislaw Beksinski.]
One of your best ever Matt…
Thank you, Kitty. This one didn’t come easy … but felt worthwhile.