Turn Over Stones II: Researching Reptiles
by Earl Haig II
This apple holds a tiny snake—do try.
Mad mangled denizens of love
from the ground underneath, not the æther above,
green on larval rock, white moon, black sky,
they lounge in isolation, bastions
of structures neither seen nor known nor needed
in mindsets of familiar-creeded
madding warm-bloods, off to watch the dragons.
Oh, the dragons! Mystery and dangers
in the bright scales and the drop
of eyelight mothers fear, but crave their style
and breath of fire, the flying leather strangers
from out of heart’s-wish magic whence they PoP.
They PoP. We live in incubated exile.