Every Friday night we feature a short story, essay, personal narrative,
poem, spoken word, or short film for your enjoyment.
Tonight’s poem is from Kari Wergeland
The body of a thick snake
holds firm inside the glass case
on loan from the Natural History Museum.
It curves into several “S’s”;
and the tip of its tail shoots out
at a 45 degree angle
to prominently display
ten rings of alarm.
One for each year?
That’s what I heard, anyway.
This snake has the head of a bull—
a fierce triangle with two fixed eyes;
and a fake tongue shooting
through a closed mouth
that will never strike again.
Kari Wergeland has received recent acceptances from The Catamaran Literary Reader, The Wisconsin Review, and The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review. She works as a librarian for Cuyamaca College in El Cajon, CA, and lives part-time on the Oregon Coast. For more information, please visit kariwergeland.wordpress.com.