The ashen snake swerves and meanders himself
in a world he is condemned to struggle in.
Among the dead branches of bushes
that gouge at his scales and tears them off
The starving serpent slithers upon his prey in a clearing
The mouse’s ribcage bulges beneath her mustard, mangy fur.
The tiny creature’s heart ignites like an engine
She knows she can’t run or fight.
The hair on her back stands at attention
As she stares at the snake with her bloodshot eyes.
Trying to prove to herself that she is not already dead.
fangs, like sickles, puncture his diseased meal
hammering it down his throat.
The snake takes what he can get.
she won’t be enough to put out the fire of hunger
that roars in his gut.
Regardless of how much he eats he only delays the inevitable
the mouse was all that was left
and soon he will wither away
Like a rat inhaling poison,
leaving behind nothing but his skins and tracks