Union of the Snake (with Thanks to Duran Duran) - (Paige McRae

Union of the Snake (with Thanks to Duran Duran) - (Paige McRae - New Orleans, LA)

As enter we enter the Chinese Zodiac Year of the Snake, I’ve been ruminating on them.
Snakes, I’ve never been truly terrified of them. One day as child, I saw my first one up close.
A small grey snake lying motionless on the stone steps next to the house. I was usually
more curious than fearful and approached the fallen serpent, which looked like I might
have lost a conflict with a bird. I left the snake’s body where it lay and excitedly went to tell
my father. He, who had always encouraged my curiosity, suggested putting the snake in a
jar with alcohol and presenting it my science teacher. So I did. There I was, this little blond
kid, riding on the school bus holding a snake in a jar. It was placed on a classroom shelf
with other specimens under glass,

Whether coiled in the branches of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, around the
caduceus of Hermes or biting its own tail in the Ouroboros, the Eternal Return, snakes have
symbolized both poison and healing, famously shedding their skin in transformation for
new scales. When touching snake for the first time, I remember the smoothness of the
skin, not the slimy sensation one might expect. I’ve grown to respect the way serpents can
use their often considerable muscular strength or venom strategically. In some way, I’m
still that kid on holding a snake in a jar.

Comments

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Dysfunctional (Taylor Coen - Lafayette, LA)

The flower sits before the tree, it is like an antagonist of nature. The rainbows fall against the clouds: colors burst into a buffet of light. Rain travels down into a puddle of water portraying the sight of an ugly ox. The strength is weak; it collapses to the ground, life flows out like a stream of consciousness. Back to the daisy and the overpowering oak, A lightning bolt strikes both. The war fades over, the mist evaporates, and sunshine gli mmers down upon a hidden valley.

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