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SNAKES
Sunday mornings
Southern Baptists
Summer heat
All those “S’s” hissing!
In the garden, preacher warned,
“Snakes will lull you to sleep.”
My head in grandmother’s lap
Twirling fans,
suspended from the ceiling.
Never pushing air enough…
sweating
hearing
voice,
not words…
rising,
falling
rising, falling.
The stroke of her fingers
tongue at my neck
in my ear
Hissing!
Preacher’s voice
distant and hollow
as though
listening underwater,
to a voice calling
softly,
tenderly
rising, falling
hissing
in my ear
sleep. . . sleep. . .
ssssssss . . . .
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