Snakeskin
 
You’ve heard of things remaining to be seen,
But I’m not sure I understand the sense—
For what is seen is what remains, I mean.
 
Some say that what remains is what has been:
The snake that sheds moves on beyond the fence,
And never looks back to the life it leaves.
 
But others say it lingers in the weeds
Where, unconstricted in its gliding hence,
It contemplates the freedom that it needs.
 
If what you see is what remains of me,
The way you see it certainly depends
On how you reconceive me from my deeds.
 
What once was seen becomes remains. The seeds
Are sown, and all that’s left is withered skin
That dangles from a branch or rafter beam.
 
I slough off like a snake the skin you seize,
And with it all displays of vain pretense.
You’ve heard of things remaining to be seen.
But what is seen is what remains, I mean.

Lee Evans

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Lee Evans  would like to hear them