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I am unable to be reasonable about snakes.
I don’t know why it is,
but they disturb and frighten me
with their writhing and looking
at the world from a head
that’s nothing more or less than the end
of a disgusting body
that comes again and again in my dreams
and makes me wake afraid
of what may be lurking between the white sheets.
I lifted the pot of geraniums on my porch
and there he was... a lizard waiting
for whatever was to come next.
He didn’t seem to be afraid of me.
I didn’t mind him.
He has five fingers
and five toes as I do.
I saw a hawk sweep down once
and catch a lizard up in its talons
and fly away into a grove of sycamore trees.
My sympathy was with the lizard.
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