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Slithering Some say the serpent first appeared with buttocks, hips, thighs — later forfeiting its haunches when caught, Satan-possessed, in the God standoff. If I were one of a dozen squirmy reptiles expelled like bowel-fanging tapeworms through a maternal opening, would I resent this dragging my underside through the dust, this victim’s punish- ment applied to my hijacking into the devil’s vesselship? No. Creation would have me granted rows of scales like fingernails to unshock my gravel-creeping endeavor, would have me endowed with the clean start of skin sloughing, undressed down to fresh keratin, peeled sock cascading around jutting barked limbs. I would belly crawl contentedly. I would slither and crawl as my lot, because slithering — not questioning why I slither — would be the highest purpose of my existence. Catherine Zickgraf |
