Glow with edenic bliss again
When
nothing pricked and nothing stang –
The
serpent slept and sucked its fang;
Now
raindrops gleam and leafage shines
And
light enliquors tines and spines,
The
only blot, the slug aslide
The
thistle’s rainwashed spring-green hide,
Ulcerous, oozing, a mucous clot,
Emballing
to a muscled knot
When
prodded in its striate back –
Pockmarked
brown and slime-glossed black:
Who
can deny, post-eden days,
Old
Nick still slithers at his ways,
Saucing
spine and sharping bristle
Of
nettles and the skin-snag thistle?
===============
©
May 2014