Snake Charmer Poem by Pauline Fayne

Sunday's hours were as fixed
as early Mass, roast chicken
and auntie's tea time tales
of a man she almost married.

Green-eyed I gazed
at his parting gift,
the gold snake binding her wrist
head and tail biting plump flesh.

While still the height of her hand
I pictured him:
Rich, fleshily handsome,
welded to his flash car.

Later, as it hung loose
from her dying hand
I knew
He was cheap and mean-spirited.