A Snake Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Not the reptile
in the bush,
but a curve on a face,

beaming a smile -
lighting the fire
of a splashed laugh.

Not the sneaky
smooth-skinned worm,
sparks in mouth

flowing out stropped mist
in forked arrows
thin as strands of wind,

thick as swords
shot through clay to land
in a bowl of marsh.

(ii)

Not the wriggling rope
that crosses
the road before a jogger,

as a brisk walker
screams out a spear
of fright
sinking through a fat nerve.

Not a hiss of wind
from a winking passerine,

but a sigh
from a cracking crevice
to grab

and tighten a throat
with a reef knot
woven by a saber-toothed mouth.

Not a crawling beast
in the woods
and braided grass

amid dreadlocks
of jumping vines and stalks,

but the ant crawling
on a shadow

in the sand-dunes
living in the room.

(iii)

Not the night-clothed,
paced crawl
up a dented face's wall.

Not the wriggle
scooping out
a track
up a laddered cheek,

but the round curves
of a grin
that lies back like a mamba

and strikes
with the soft sigh
of a hummingbird

behind the fire
of a flower's flame.