hoop snake by rebecca wee

- for michael, summer, 1994

the second time we met
he told me about the hoop snake

seductive, exquisite,
a godless man

so I listened

we weren’t sure though
if it could be true –

a snake that takes its tail
in its mouth,
then rolls through the world

but there are reasons to believe
in god and this seems a good one

we brought wine to the porch,
spoke of piety, marriage;
commitments assumed
for reasons that could not
sustain them

while lightning took apart the sky
the fields leapt up the
stream’s dark body
slipped off through the grass

and the iris screamed

their flawless mouths
luminous arms the landscape
sexual and torn suddenly desire
and sadness

beautiful
so I don’t remember
what he said his eyes flowering
in the dark

after he left I walked through
the grass the rain asked
how do things work?

we are after something miraculous
we open our mouths we
believe we turn
at times

we gather speed