Today's poem is by Kathleen Driskell

The Death of the Snake Handler

He was buried with his good book
and a canvas bag cinched tight,
where within were the remains
of the snake

that left two oozing gashes
in the preacher's cheek.
As he lay dying, he accepted
it was God's will,

but still
asked his deacon to separate
the snake's head from
the coiled noose of its body,

to show the snakethat
in the end, he was but a worm
in the world of men,
and the snake,

before the hoe's head fell,
hissed then surrender, please,
only a worm was needed
to bring you to your knees.

Copyright © 2015 Kathleen Driskell All rights reserved
from Next Door to the Dead
The University Press of Kentucky
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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