Snake Dreams

I was born in the year of the snake. I gradually discovered what that means. The first time I tried to catch a snake, I grabbed it by the tail. Like a whip, it snapped around and bit me. My body didn't change, but I felt as if I had no bones, all spine and rib cage, jointed everywhere. I don't need hips or shoulders anymore. I don't need arms or legs to move and grab. My whole body is movement. My fangs are my grabbers. My tongue can taste you on the air. There's no place I can't get into.

The snake is my animal totem. It waits to claim me. Every time I'm bitten, I become more snake-ish. To fit into the world of men, I have to avoid bites. On the third bite the transformation will be complete and I will crawl on my belly forever.

Not just any snake will do. It has to be progressively more severe. The first was harmless, a garter snake. Some people call them garden snakes, but I prefer garters. I have liked the look and feel of garters since the first bite.

The next bite has to be a viper. A diamond-back rattler, a water moccasin, or a copperhead will do. I know how to suck out the poison, cut two Xs at the fang marks, attach a tourniquet to keep the toxin from moving all the way to my heart, then suck it out. Better to use a suction ball from a snake bite kit than my mouth, because if I have a bad tooth, the venom will get into me that way. It won't kill me, because I am a snake, but if it reaches my heart, that is the second stage. I will have a snake heart. My blood will run cold. I will feel dead when you touch me, but I won't be dead.

The final stage, the scales, the absorption of the limbs, the belly-crawling, requires the bite of a cobra or any other nerve poison snake, like those pretty coral snakes with pointy little teeth instead of fangs who chew on their victims. They have an enzyme that dissolves nerves, leaves humans numb and paralyzed as one-by-one it cuts down the lines of communication between brain and body. By then I will be two-thirds reptile. It will go straight to my brain and from there to my mind and I will be all snake, body, mind and spirit and you won't know me anymore. You will try to pin me to the ground with a forked stick and kill me, but you will fail because I will be too strong, a python on land, an anaconda in water and I will crush you if you threaten me. Or, I will tempt you, feed you the knowledge of good and evil and get you locked forever out of Eden. For such is the way of snakes.

John A. Ward was born on Staten Island, attended Wagner College in the early 60's, sold his first poem to Leatherneck magazine, and became a scientist. He is now in San Antonio running, writing and living with his dance partner. He has published in Doorknobs & Bodypaint, Clockwise Cat, Apollo s Lyre, Toasted Cheese, Green Tricycle, Alighted Ezine, Lit Bits, Cenotaph Pocket Edition, The San Antonio Express-News, Antithesis Common, Wild Child, Holy Cuspidor, Idlewheel, Sentence, Sun Poetic Times, Byline, Quirk, ken*again, R-KV-R-Y, The Smoking Poet, Long Story Short, Cautionary Tale and The Rose & Thorn. Links to his work can be found at Web Site.

Email: John A. Ward

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