Invariably,
You prefer to come
To me in the dark.
"You're more my temperature then,"
You once said.
I'm not much of a thermometer,
But I am the eurythmy
To each syllable you give
In such settled shadow.
A play of murmurs and fingertips,
You once named this.
Always I see a wreath in your hair,
In colors of Persia,
Textures of night,
And the soft blended lines
Of you I know
Infallibly.

As I fall asleep
I hear the snakes hissing under my bed

I discovered them when I was a little girl
the first time one crawled up under my skirt

they left marks all over my body
scars I can't remove

I still find myself scrubbing so hard
trying to remove their mark

I still dream that they are all over me
I can't make them go away