Snakeskin
by Frostie Whinery
She looked dead when I found her
stretched around a group of rocks
at the heart of a desert.
Her skin was pulled from her body
lying limp past the tip of her tail
and I wept.
I sank to her,
cradled her in my arms,
and whispered,
Who did this to you?
Her triangular head rose from rest and she said,
I did.
I wiped sun from my eyes.
Why?
She slithered up my arm
and grazed my cheek
with her cheek
and said,
Darling,
look closely at my shed skin.
See the scars. See the mites.
Now look at me,
f r e s h a n d f r e e.
stretched around a group of rocks
at the heart of a desert.
Her skin was pulled from her body
lying limp past the tip of her tail
and I wept.
I sank to her,
cradled her in my arms,
and whispered,
Who did this to you?
Her triangular head rose from rest and she said,
I did.
I wiped sun from my eyes.
Why?
She slithered up my arm
and grazed my cheek
with her cheek
and said,
Darling,
look closely at my shed skin.
See the scars. See the mites.
Now look at me,
f r e s h a n d f r e e.
Frostie Whinery is a writer by night and a graphic artist/press operator by day. In her free time, she can be found lying in the rain or reading poetry under the shade of her pecan trees. You can find her on Instagram @saltwater.nights.