Slow worm
Heat me and I live again.
feel the blood move
over the bones edge,
where limbs raise me off the sand
and now remain
a vestigial display.
Fear me for a moment,
an elemental demon
in tall, swaying grass
but, when my eyelids drop,
‘that which is not a snake’
lives in shadows.
Clasp me in the dance
and rivals for my meals
will be born by Spring,
lying , in Medusan pose,
under fallen leaves
and rain washed stone.
Remember in the chill night,
soon after the hunting dusk
as I live with no venom,
coil around brothers
and rest , damp and burrowed,
in tangles of bronze.
Bathe me again in the sun
and languid, moist air
to taste my day
relaxed and loose,
predator and prey,
anxious , silent Fragilis.
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