The Serpent Poem by Caetano Silveira

I step with weak feet over
wetted gravel,
don’t fall
stay quiet
I lay my plastic snake on the ground
keep it tucked behind the rock
its cold husk against my palms
skin of pearlescence covering my open hands
yellow venom in its eyes
crisp shellac coat on mercury slits
in sulphur-mustard mirror eyes I watch my own breath
It’s lead scales, dead glint, I wrap it around the tree
I move back from the still waiting serpent
its slit eyes matching mine
but it moves as I watch it
it fills with life, the mercury slits flushing
and the gravel hurts my feet as I walk inside

As I leave it to sit in the morning yard
my mother scrapes away the dead leaves and weeds
and inside I feel my own cold husk of dead leaves

My mother’s screams
fill the air like a
swaddling
the sound is
smothering,
and gasping
for breath
I tear through the yard to her
but when I see the quicksilver snake
coiled around the tree
whose rubber fangs stuck into my mother
with necrotic poison for her heart
My lips twinge
and though I lower my head
I feel creeping
the serpentine lips of a smile