Today's poem is by James Davis May

The Snake in the Living Room
       

Had it been a spider or a rat
or the worm I had hoped it was,
I could have handled it—killed it
or angled it into the moonlight
outside the sliding glass doors.

But once I saw the signature slither
and the tongue flickering
like horror-film lightning, I knew
I needed my wife, though she was sleeping,
though the snake was small,

small enough for the dustpan I tried
but dropped in one final attempt
to overthrow my fear. So Chelsea came
from our darkened bedroom and through
the hall to our living room, naked,

not even wearing her glasses,
and pinched the snake (even the dust
it hid in seemed to weigh it down)
then took it outside. Yes, I thought of Eve
and the story I never believed,

though the suffering it's caused
is real enough. When Chelsea returned
and kissed me and said, Aren't you glad
I found you, I was and am—it was,
after all, the truth, and I still know it.

Tweet

Copyright © 2023 James Davis May All rights reserved
from Unusually Grand Ideas
LSU Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission