Over the fence my newest neighbour greets me
swathed in her pet python (green and gold:
a good two metres). Never in a million years
could I pick up a thing like that. I’ve always had
an absolute horror of snakes of any kind.
Go on, she says, he’ll let you stroke him.
Her hair twines down in ringlets, dark and sinuous.
I stroke him. He feels like a rather expensive handbag.
The snake lady’s arms are silken and not like a handbag at all.