by Necca Stoller
How they brighten
the narrow deer trail
those wet drops of blood-
and filling the shallow tracks
shiny cartridge shells
Like a narrow, sleek hull, parallel ribs
clasp the skeletal snakes long backbone.
Curving at each end the spine, a wide keel
frames a man o war- beached, derelict, bleached.
To the bow rises the masthead, a serpent skull
snarling, its dull fangs still strike at the sun.
Eight rattles firmly anchor the broad stern.
Over the wreck, a vultures bleak shadow
wavers like water, breaks like a wave.
Tossed by the days, watch how it changes.
The rain sinks, shale shatters, the sharp wind shifts.
Adrift in the blue eyed grass, the snake ship
deconstructing . . . loses definition
but always shaping the thread thin ribs,
white as a Vikings blade, just now
touching for the first time, one on another
piled boldly into its funeral raft.
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