Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Solitude

Where is the black snake in the grass?
The one who was curled up on my brick patio
in the sun.
The one that slithered along the fence
outside my window.
Where has he gone?
I look for him when I am writing
and I see chipmunks running through the leaves.
I wait for his wide flat head to rise up
like a submarine coming out of the waves
and snatch any thing in his path
down
to a quick death.
I keep my eyes peeled
along the back fence
watching
for movement.
But all I see is stillness,
and the faded basketball
that has remained motionless
in the corner
since Trouble died.