SNAKE IN THE WOODPILE

I used to think the worst
snake in the woodpile
was the one my dad killed
when I was a little girl,
playing on a stack of firewood
It was a bold memory that never
left me

I still see myself dancing
and hopping around
squealing
“kill it, daddy, kill it!”

Fear is a strong memory
making that snake the worst
there was in my life
Until you.

I found there are worse
snakes in woodpiles
than copperheads and rattle snakes
and things that go bump in the night
when I met
you.

Poem Copyright © 1976 Nan C