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.