Poisonous Thoughts

A poem by Kari

Death— impending,

always there

writhing like snakes

at your feet

the possibility of a horrible ending

slithering after you

as you run through the trees.

One bite.

One bite from these messengers of death

and doom,

and you’ll be sent into oblivion.

Death—Always following


waiting where you can’t

see it.

It is the boa constrictor wrapped

around the branch above your head.

It is the anaconda


in the grass at your feet,


for the perfect moment

to strike.

It surrounds you, slowly,

hesitantly at first

unsure whether to accept its prize.


it is everywhere

your hair, your clothes

it’s even in your boots,


every part of you

like a hoard

of hungry snakes.


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