"Water Snakes” by Anna Girgenti
Ten years old with war paint on your face
bright red feathers in your headdress,
You held a toy gun, a boy and arrow.
In my hand- a sharp stone
together,
brother and sister or
Indian chief and his princess,
hand in hand
We found them in the backyard
on rocks by the lake
Slithering from their watery home,
stretched out and baking
in the July sun,
four feet of gray scales
We shot them
one by one.
We gripped them by the necks
and took them to the flames
You tied knots with their flesh,
laid them at bonfire stakes.
Strapped to sticks and peeling,
our captives
dead.
With a flume of smoke,
they were raptured
resurrected.
We sang chants
and danced in circles
and when we walked barefoot
into the lake’s edge,
You said to me
Now we can go swimming together
every day and forever.
Happy with blood on our hands,
We thought the water snakes
were gone.
Ten years old with war paint on your face
bright red feathers in your headdress,
You held a toy gun, a boy and arrow.
In my hand- a sharp stone
together,
brother and sister or
Indian chief and his princess,
hand in hand
We found them in the backyard
on rocks by the lake
Slithering from their watery home,
stretched out and baking
in the July sun,
four feet of gray scales
We shot them
one by one.
We gripped them by the necks
and took them to the flames
You tied knots with their flesh,
laid them at bonfire stakes.
Strapped to sticks and peeling,
our captives
dead.
With a flume of smoke,
they were raptured
resurrected.
We sang chants
and danced in circles
and when we walked barefoot
into the lake’s edge,
You said to me
Now we can go swimming together
every day and forever.
Happy with blood on our hands,
We thought the water snakes
were gone.