Handsome snake,
eyes of glass,
so quiet, invisible among the stones,
gliding through breaks,
pouring into cracks
to sup the milk of dragons in the earth.

I am constricted, crushed,
worked into pliability.
My broken eyes still see.
My ears, crushed and torn, still hear.
Plague fleas flee from me.

Is this Karma,
or do I just disappear down the forever hole?
In a high place,
incantations and offerings are addressed
for the salvation of my kind.
The priestess is a cat.
Her motives are not pure
but we take what we can get.

Originally posted to ruleoflaw on Thu Oct 31, 2013 at 03:56 PM PDT.

Also republished by Badger State Progressive, Rebel Songwriters, J Town, Kitchen Table Kibitzing, and PWB Peeps.

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