
Serpent
An effigy of something we
cannot grasp all
At once, but must climb up to see
the way it falls
And sidewinds down the hill. It holds
a giant egg
Within its mouth. Grandmothers told
us – some do beg,
In rags, and riddle how the world
first came to be.
It was imagined, here, unfurled
beneath these trees.
Teasdale
Of all the singers, you were most
attuned to rain –
Those days when it came down, a ghost
would speak of pain,
And all the things rain is so good
at drawing out –
And in that colloquy your mood
was not of doubt
Or bitterness, but of the way
the rain will seem
To dance, sometimes, as if at play,
and not a dream.
Jared Carter’s new collection of poems, Heart’s Forest, is forthcoming from Able Muse Press in 2027. He lives in Indiana.