Once, as a child,

an explorer,

I saw a trace.

Tucked between rows of stones

in a stonewall lit by sunlight

was a shiny near see-through snakeskin.


The fascinating fragile skin

was equal to the thing,

not a trace it was to me

but as real as the snake

it had contained.


How often we chase-

looking for what?-

the trace.

The scent of fresh bread brings an ache for happiness lost

we eat some.

It ‘s the memory of the magic,

gliding in and out of beds and rooms and cities

with the good love,

that now draws us closer to the wrong stranger.


How often do we choose

the ghost instead of the thing,

the skin instead of the now.


©  SelinaKV  2018







4 thoughts on “Snakeskin

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: