Nancy Murphy / Writer

writings and performances by Nancy Murphy

Year of the Snake


some nights when they sleep

he enters the room

comes between them in the bed

there is space enough,

he slides into the warm sheets

slithers over to her side

wraps around her and gently

presses her skin squeezes

the life from her,

threatens her with disaster.


she thinks this is sexy

she has no idea.


the snake stays the night wanting

her dreams, she opens her eyes

early morning   feels around

for something vaguely

unfinished

the way night stories can be,

but he is gone pulled back

to his own bed

his own woman

her thick honey hair and soft hips

waiting, wanting to bear

children, he has

made his choices, he has

spoken his vows.


let’s meet for coffee he says,

that cafe in the hills she says

but they never do.


she rolls onto her side

now listens for the alarm,

when it sings she reaches

her entire body across

the mountain of her man,

she stays there as he

awakens encircles her

she holds on to him

for dear life.


Altadena Poetry Review: Anthology 2017 


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