By Angie Macri
not an answer. She leaned
into the apple tree, which then
was evergreen, to the snake’s
hands, sweet flesh, no need
to be ashamed. We share
and share alike, the peel
not loose like night on day,
but tight. She took the snake’s
and opened its question.
It was the first time she had
something to give, what
the man couldn’t take, the first time
the man said please:
please let me have a bite.
He found the iron ore
and brought it home.
He found the coal under
the forest and lit it on fire
to watch it go
so the snake couldn’t catch her
if she fell and she couldn’t
hold anything but its tongue.
Never let the fire go out or else,
he warned, and she held on.
Source: Poetry (December 2017)
More Poems about Living
We gathered in a field southwest of town,
several hundred hauling coolers
and folding chairs along a gravel road
dry in August, two ruts of soft dust
that soaked into our clothes
and rose in plumes behind us.
By noon we could discern their massive coils
How to Triumph Like a Girl
I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
is as fun as taking a nap, or grass.
I like their lady horse swagger,
after winning. Ears up, girls, ears up!
But mainly, let’s be honest,...