Snake Farm

Tonight I’m performing weeknight

domestic dinner party, where one

friend asks about another’s snakes—

the gold ones wrapped around her wrists

& others, smaller, climbing her fingers ...

The asker pulls out pictures of a black

rat pair she watched all summer,

how they gorged on rodents, slept

in sunspots, knotted in the afternoon-

warmed lawn. The snake wearer recoils

at this slippery musculature all twisted up,

& we all raise a glass & laugh at what

we fear, & what we wear, or fear & wear—

I swirl clear liquor on my tongue

& tell our host to turn it up