Treasure Island

Isabelle Cooper


A Boa From Samoa


Bright as disaster
The morning sky
Above the burnished lake
Leaned close
As though to swallow
Not just one thing
But all-

Held still-
For one small signal waiting
To spread its length, slip down
The rope of day
And fold into itself
The soft bones of earth

Submitted: Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, May 22, 2013
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