Outside of old
Dublin, there resides a passageway, where the snakes cross,
As they make their way to Dublin—!
May die on the way of exhaustion.
The King Snake, waits for the impending
fog to rise—otherwise known as bog, to sweep over all…
Awaits for it to shift, usually in the
mornings, but he never leaves!
This day, the bog was so badly, should any
attempt to walk it straight, it would be to his death!
But this day, he decides to trek to Dublin
all the same…
Strategically he has moved stones to use
as markers to make his way, days before, to where he felt the edge of the bog
would lift.
To his dismay, on his way he finds the bog
rising faster and faster, the sky strikes light, with its lightening!...
He sees his fellow snakes struggling,
death has them in its clutches—
The bog then swoops all the sakes into the
nearby sea, except the King Snake who follows an old maid, with a red
petticoat, lantern in hand.
The bog is no less carpeted with death, it
has swallowed up nearly every living thing in its path; it crosses the King
Snake’s mind, many have never returned.
Once in Dublin, the King Snake is met by
the high social class of the city.
He is unable to maintain a conversation
with them.
The King Snake is not pleased.
He is seen and treated as if in a false
position.
Thus the King Snake feels less composed to
them.
Here he has no imperial space, hence, he
returns to his less exotic place.
Which to him is more domesticated.
He realizes his perception, because of his
reception, was off.
#5083/ 2-19-2016
Copyright © February, 2016 by Dennis L.
Siluk, Dr. h.c.
Note:
the poem is Spatial Metaphor & Personification
