Two Snakes

In dream,

in the desert day,

my child self comes

bearing a hatchling snake,

its pattern half mottled

and half striped

I take his hands in mine,

show him the way to become

one with serpent, to become

the substrate, so as not

to grasp, so as to guide

and let glide

Kneeling down

we place it in the rocks

and a second snake appears,

black with a single white stripe

along its spine, a single white

dot on its head,

another hatchling

In waking,

my blood lingers

with the electricity

of a serpent in the hands,

with the soft power

to hold, to let go,

to heal