Frances Daggar Roberts

The Golden-Crowned Snake

Dropped by a bird a golden-crowned snake
too injured to survive
is struggling on our driveway
slender as a stem
soft skinned and dark except for the head
looped around in gold like a pharaoh’s torque.
As you die your crown begins to fade
though its pattern still astounds.
I can do nothing for you now
except in memoriam.
I want to protect your species
from reckless execution
by those who are afraid of snakes
and unaware of rare and harmless things like you.
In a small flat box
I carry your body to my gym class
and show you to a group pf peers.
They recoil but study you with interest
and even note your beauty.
I long for their contact with you
to inspire protection of your kind.
When you have shrunk from your identity
little pharaoh
I will bury you to be absorbed into the ground –
a magical creature that has changed some humans
just a little.