Clenching its muscles,
a serpent inside me
feels my pain.
Some put the blame on
the snake,
but I know it's not her fault
any more than it is mine.
She shares my agony,
groans at its worth...
and the rumble moves up from my stomach;
the coils slide, the muscles grip,
like waves they hit
hard, then back down.
In this way nature places
a history behind my pain.
I am a part of cycle,
a long chain, a belt, a snake
wrapped around the waist of Venus.
Women are not the shoreline-
the tide will never erode them, leave them
broken,
shattered in the sands.
