Drawing To An End Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

There was a slither of sound in the undergrowth.
A sliver that ended in a shape
I could not see clearly.
I stopped. Looking to silence to reveal a sound.
The wind stirred the feathers of grass.

Instead of movement,
I started searching for stillness, something focused
by its stillness. Eventually, as I stopped searching
I saw greyish-green formless movement.

For a moment a sleek head, three tongues,
bulging eyes, a dribbling under-lip
like chinaman’s beard!

Mythology began blurring my reality.

I tried to see more clearly
as it stretched and raised itself
unlike that beautiful exotic flower
and gulped and slid its mouth caressingly forward
and back. As it turned its sucking orifice to me
I saw its prey: the thin long exclamation
marks of dangling legs! !