Snake

Condemned to be a belly on the earth,
you slither masterfully
around the beehive, away from
the beating of bamboo sticks,
riding the air in a ripple of desert sand.

In the whoop and holler of discovery,
lengths hypnotize,
unraveling waves of dancing feet
in a strike, a miss, and retreat.

Later, I wonder of your bite,
hidden in tall grass, quiet.
A toothless face on the fence
skirting immunity, or else
beautifully venomous,
contemplating legs, hips;
no footsteps, no trace,
just movement, honey,
and the lick of escaping lips.