Hurry Come My Sister Poem by James McLain

should we not walk
naked
his attire once was as ours
heavy and full
green wet the moss
hangs down
looks out to see the tree
over them
hurry come my sister
sharp mink claws
persian cat
life the eater of nine tails
poore is the brother
whom even now has not
but a short bent stick
I can not avert mine eye
red is the serpant
she peeks
through thick green leaves
hung the head
none but her/she seeks
passing it by
my hand shoots out
apple now bitten full and still
lays at her feet.