Crotalus Viridis

Coiled
in nest, telling
myself it never
mattered.

Battling
jealous generals
on the anniversary
of their deaths.

Vacancies
on the shelf.

Retreating
further, further
into envenomed
mirth.

Worthwhile
enterprises
scatter like
cockroaches
at the flick
of a switch.

None's done.
Whose blues.
What's cut.
Let's bet.

Gone or flown.
Hiss or miss.
Forgotten, known.
Led or dead.

Image and image.
I am stuffed
with bulging images,
imagine that.
Swallowed once
seasoned with history.

Histrionics
and swollen appendages.
Rife with belated
bruises from grating
loss.

Very serious,
the serial error.

El anillo 
de la vida.

My tail:
so tasty.