it looked like neon green beans, to my eyes—
the sorry viper he regurgitated
before my sweeping feet—as i, bent low
examined finger-lengths of body, gnawed 

in pieces, coated with digestive slime
and barely small enough to swallow; so
his coddled bite could make a stunning gift
from serpent suffering, knowledge obtained:

our little life would never not be strung
by line, each day a hundred unseen times
between the drunken swagger and the lap
his cradled comfort loving-limp in mine

that we would match white tooth, pink gum with death
and valor make more holy than satiation

//

Selamat purnama 🌕