The Snake

i’m not Building     a House, though i

go Under them     like a Low creek

i’m not Playing     a role when My

de Facto hip     hits the Stage or

bumps the Record     my winding Mind

a human Feeling     a mental Flexing

with a Whiff of dead     bird Or mouse, to

the Discerning. i     head to the Eternal

Verandah, discarding     contortions and Blue

herrings. i Have     a Diamond on my head

some Frost on my tail     and Apple on my fangs

Turning’s what counts     the Steady tone, transfixing

people with Ears and     Winters under their

Belts. i drag my     Belly through the dirt

yet am Clean enough     by the Time i enter

the Australian literature     library to Shed

my skin. i’m Always     there always Travelling

shifting Shape, leaving     a Wriggle where it’d

been Said was nothing     or Maybe a trickle

long Dry. did i     say I’m a feeling

a sober Mood     part grim part True?

Without intent     and yet with Business

to Attend to     social Habits to

pursue and Contest     at my Best i

wear a Helmet     and a Nettle dress

perhaps you Saw me     exit the Ocean

from your Eyrie     or Unblessed yacht?

or Felt me enter     your Swimmers while tanning

but That’s decades     ago. i was Still

highly Pastoral then     not So forgiving

now I’m ecumenical     the Word of god

or Sod suits me     Seduction itself’s

just Education     or lies to Protect

the needy. Rest-     lessness is my Mainstay

the Road as seen     from an Alpine car

or cushioned Chair     Risk need not be

forced. any Minute     Momentum might be

blocked, or Random     disrupted Joying

devolve to Vice     and Spice my life

with Strikes or cut me     Dead, how annoying

Michael Farrell