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| rosemerry wahtola trommer |  | 1. Meanwhile, in Another Garden tsstsstsstsstsstsstsstss and from short grass beside the wire fence the serpent rises, a lean silhouette, and frames the low orange sunset in its angle of mouth. I hear the rattle more than see the coil, but coil it does and raises high its diamond head. I want to reach and touch it, become acquainted with its slither, know the fangs, the frenzied tail. But something in me steps away. Then something else says Step closer again, and so I do, tsstsstsstsstss. The baby in my arms makes not a stir but I am well aware of her and slowly turn to walk toward home humming her name, one hand strokes her hair, one hand reaches back. 2. Just Because You Could Admit Something Once It was easier, of course to say to the self, no, I didn’t say it, than to walk on this evening’s coals. Easier to lie, you prefer the word “hide,” than to call to mind an awkward and ill-timed insight, to wear it like a necklace that draws the eye. Better to rot, you think, than to be eloquent. Rather to break than remember the words you once spoke in a circle ripe with consent. And the No tightens its hands around your neck, and No sees the rainbow out the closed window and surely, firmly, shutters the glass. It is kinder this way, you tell yourself. The No sits in the center of the room and laughs. | |
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