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

surrounding

waiting where you can’t

see it.

It is the boa constrictor wrapped

around the branch above your head.

It is the anaconda

hiding

in the grass at your feet,

waiting

for the perfect moment

to strike.

It surrounds you, slowly,

hesitantly at first

unsure whether to accept its prize.

Eventually

it is everywhere

your hair, your clothes

it’s even in your boots,

devouring

every part of you

like a hoard

of hungry snakes.

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