La Virgen Maria by MJ Lindo
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Snake
by Swan Mary, fountain of pearl, Ave Maria, this morning, I napped with a garter snake, a green apricot stick. They say you will crush the serpent's head beneath your heel, a jeweled rattle. The serpent that flickered in Eve's mind. "Eat, and you shall be like gods." He hissed like an angel's wing and that is why she loved him. The pomegranate's skin was hard but Eve bit harder, Eva, Ave Maria, the juice stained her hands, a birthmark of grace not innocence. "Eat, if you want." And that is when she knew. No necessity just choice, no pattern, the scratch and scrape of prophecy. That was what the god knew. He gave us the power of serpents, a green dizziness of pain and choice. The snake curled around Eve's ankle, so supple, a scaled hank of silk, thick as her braid. This morning, my mother braided my hair and kissed my forehead. I stroked the snake's scales, each one a new leaf, the prick of a blueberry bramble, leaving behind my scent, crushed caraway seeds. But the snake will shred her skin, my scent until she is supple, a river reed with no name. As will I. |