With Painted Words

The snake has no ears

by Harmony Hodges

With an attitude like a piranha

and a glide like molten lava

the ripple of the Diamondback

migrated through the desert.

 

In the distance

an owl

stalked the diamondback

but finally gave up

and caressed a chasm near

the plateau of a rock.

 

“Pssshaw,” the snake said,

then slithered through dry brush.

It flattened a wildflower,

then tongued a

reminiscing,

dying,

scorpion.

 

The scorpion spoke

on behalf of his desert friends

with amplified reverberation:

 

“Listen.

Kill quickly.

Temper justice with mercy -

the weak will

be too strong for you

at this time of day…”

 

But his words drifted away

on a strand of wind

as a force in the distance beckoned the snake.

 

A white light.

no, a rabbit.

A temple of energy

A mound of blood.

 

The snake crept

then paused

then dove

with teeth made of talons.

The rabbit ran as

the sun set

beneath a

slit throat sky.

 

The rabbit fell

and fixated

on the last cottontail cloud

tranquil,

frozen,

as the venom s l o w l y pervaded.