when he comes back to life
his first thought
is his first

and when

while sitting beside the bathroom sink
instinctually shaking a pregnancy stick

he hears from an air vent     what I would call
a frangible keening

he stands on the toilet
and chokes himself, his creamy hands
playing gentle theatrics
on his baby fat

neck
where I see a mark

as if he's been strangled
by the ghost of a snake
that when still
a snake

slithered
from the ashes
of a tree
the tree

it was made to love