by Glen Martin Fitch
In great dismay you came.
"Look! I've been bit!"
"You play with serpents, friend.
The charmer charmed."
Distressed, you cried out,
flailing in a fit,
till shock set in.
At that I grew alarmed.
I'm scouting trained.
My friendship I can prove.
I lanced your wound
and sucked and spat
and sucked and spat again,
the deadly poison to remove.
I saved your life,
so why do I feel fucked?
And even then I thought,
I can't ignore I risk this venom
getting in my veins.
And what's in this for me
for all my pains?
And haven't we done
just this thing before?
I watch you limping back
to find that snake.
How often must we make
the same mistake?
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011