Let her snake wait under
Her weed.
Who doesn’t know the poison of words on her tongue?
It comes slowly, darting quickly and sharply to strike
Dangerously at innocence.
Quietly it waits, sleeplessly in the dark,
Like sumac buds with gum in the head.
Like horses pounding hoofs on raw sods.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned twice.
Does apple fall far from the tree?
Or did someone not tell the children
When you go to buy a gilt, look at the sow?
No one reconciled the allegory.
Now, we have leeches in our throats.
And we flutter drily hawking our
Regrets at the market place.
And today, we
are the saxifrage flower splitting rocks.
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