There, the biggest snake, in the smallest cage, in the smallest room, and in the smallest house
and there lived me, too.
Three hundred sets, yellow coils sat in my crushed lap, and they played with my hair like three hundred hands covered, in scales, and ripples of light like hair standing on end after thunder had struck.
A snake, with snake teeth, and snake eyes, lifeless as white pearls in a clam, but black, a dark house, that house, the house a snake and I shared.
A ton solid as rock months I sat
there
a still Dollie, in a chair.
Afraid to
exhale, afraid, the yellow monster coiling itself around me whole. To touch it, I would feel death sitting right atop my very self.
A snake did,
kill me.
No reason, no purpose at all. The biggest snake, in the smallest cage, in the smallest house, to kill the only me.
Feeling two hands, like the coils of a giant yellow snake, rest themselves under my throat, just below my abdomen. The pluck, I was lifted right up,
out of my chair, with a whoosh.
My eyes, as still and lifeless as a fresh powered sugar snowbank, but still as black as a dark house.
That house, the house,
a snake and
I,
once shared.