The told serpent slipped through your fingers
like water from those cold mountains,
inviting for a game of catch.
You tried to close your eyes and ears,
but it touched you, it knew you
and you wouldn't admit it.
It went beneath your tailored suits
and hissed you its General Song
about the man you wish you were.
It took you in the tightest embrace
to near the forgotten who were your mothers,
to the shunned dark rooms where you once made home.
And from above the bloody snow you returned
as child of your people, of those the serpent screamed of,
and the real persona of a brand new poem.
For that, you love it,
it cannot imagine
how much you love it.
3 de junho de 2017