I am liquid, up or down.
My banks are wooded,
peeling in the sun.
You don't see my face,
no wrinkle shows or
lines for sight. I am
a page of light
then turn to dark.
Some colour me
Ad Majorem Dei Gloria -
I cast a stain upon their floor
and colour their garden
through a closed door.
Should physics lose its head
I'd flow and puddle
like an undisciplined dog.

Andrew Burke

If you guess the answer to the riddle, or if you've any comments on his poem, Andrew Burke would be pleased to hear from you. The answer will be printed in February Snakeskin.