To The Snake

Green Snake, when I hung you round my neck

and stroked your cold, pulsing throat

        as you hissed to me, glinting

arrowy gold scales, and I felt

        the weight of you on my shoulders,

and the whispering silver of your dryness

        sounded close at my ears —

Green Snake—I swore to my companions that certainly

        you were harmless!  But truly

I had no certainty, and no hope, only desiring

        to hold you, for that joy,

                                                which left

a long wake of pleasure, as the leaves moved

and you faded into the pattern

of grass and shadows, and I returned

smiling and haunted, to a dark morning.