Etched in Bone

At night I engrave my bones with poems.

Scratching.

Carving.

Etching.

During the day I feel every notch and ridge

hidden inside me.

I repeat them to myself.

In time others will read them too

and know me.

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King Snake

You have feared my sharp smile

and see it when you take rest.

My piercing laugh haunts your playful breezes.

 

I climb from the pit

drapedĀ in serpents.

I too have become venomous.