Hanging with a Baby Serpent

I’d like to believe my first dream was mystic
I’d like to believe I was born good though naked
Like the slimy baby serpent
Slithering and hissing just to know himself
Cracking and coiling in monsoon muds
No pretence for the protruding fangs
It’ll have to live with and learn to take pride in
I’d like to believe I was made to loathe
Myself, my acts, your self, your acts
Bruising and beating the post present
In my diction, dread and dormitory
I’d like to believe my first murder was self-defence
I want a dream I can make for myself
Though I sleep as I do every night
I am hanging in the sky
And there flies by a baby serpent with some friends
And I tell him stay here and hang with me
There’s plenty of venom for the world already.



The writer likes to wander her city on her bicycle in a world where women aren’t allowed to get into driving seats.