We all desire something lethal to feel alive. In my recurring dreams, snakes entrancing my body. A Philippine Pit Viper slithering up my torso, its green scales a sea to my drought. A Philippine cobra grinning at arm’s length. A rattlesnake hypnotizing me as I reached for an ax. Always, a friend or two appears to drive the hatchet home. Saves me when I’m closing in on a venomous thing of beauty – like men. When their poisonous lips breathe into my neck, I cup their jaws closer so they can sink their teeth into me bone-deep. Let them fill my greedy veins with toxin to the last drop. Whenever courage took too long to arrive, friendship grips my hand until I am brave enough to sever a man’s fangs. Stands at the bedside, watching my ping-pong ball heartbeat swim up and down the monitor. Praying, Let her big love fill her own cup. Let this be the last poison she drinks from another. Let light kiss her eyes open. Make her see: she does not need to die one more time to feel alive.
This was first published on Pickle Press Poetry on April 17, 2024.
