Dream

Ivory and intelligent, the snake.
A real thing in a real dream.
Knew.

It knew the woman, who:
smiled like trees screaming;
talked love;
taught despair; and,
stole poems.

It knew she was the sister of unreason.
How, at night,
the soft touch of her hair
sighed on a man's chest.

How she might catch truth from chaos,
holding it high, an iron pyrite.
Quite a separate thing ,
from the hand that held it.

But the snake did not mind.
Minding only its own pain.
Twinning mine.
"I will look after you"
I said.
And the snake, happy,
Moved so close