Peoria, Tazewell, And Woodford: Here, There & Everywhere

Blacksnake Moan by Mike Foster



The blacksnake seeps

Through the hole bored for him.

Without a hiss he slips

Down the wall onto the pillow,

Down beneath the heavy sleeping sheets.

He lies stiff and still,

Between you both, waiting

For your skin to wake you up

When it finally brushes his.


Now old Egypt beckons with a knowing moan,

Now Hitler rises up in the loins

And gives mad speeches,

Now the invaders deploy

Their fingers and toes.

Now they wake

At touch of snake.


29 November 1975


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This entry was posted on January 31, 2016 by in Mike Foster, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , .
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