they found me beneath the spruce
as garden snake slipped through my hands
stubby digits, feet splayed, I babbled

conversing with this hapless koan
creature curved in symbol, the ancient slander
written in code along each scale

did he writhe to escape my gleeful ministrations
or slide along my chest to confess
his innocence in my fat ear

shrieking my mother descended, sandals
slapped the dewy Bermuda blades
her hands shooed the beast away away

conjuring fear’s spirit a sinuous shape
that lodged within my pale breast
earnest farewell gave way

to trepidation of questions
that slither through our palms

Corbett Buchly’s poetry has appeared in more than 30 journals, including, Panoply, SLAB, Plainsongs, Barrow Street, and Rio Grande Review. He is an alumnus of Texas Christian University and the professional writing program at the University of Southern California. He lives in Northeast Texas, and you can find him online at Buchly.com.