It slithers in, wet and black in the night,
bringing its bombs, guns, knives, wide
eye of the lunatic fringe, encouraging
the fanatical, and that’s no joke, no
cute astrological nonsense, now, is it?
This morning rain is cold, spotting
the windows, as I sit and worry
about loved ones near and far.
In a good Snake Year, business
deals, money-making (beware
of loopholes), but a Water Snake
year is the Satanic abyss, the void
of deep space, a hungry wolf
howling in the Arctic expanse,
humming on a full moon nerve.
In the blue light of the television,
I am sending electronic messages
of support, carrying on with both
hope and dread. When it stops raining
later today, I will go out and look at allthe flowers of this mad, gone world.
~ Lauren Tivey
*Note: Salvaged poem from my expansion drive crash. This was written last year, in 2013, which was the Year of the Snake. Currently, we are in the Year of the Horse.