This morning I woke and there was a skin next to me, the colour of yesterday’s milk.

On snakes and resurrection.

Only once did I see a snake bite someone. It was my friend, it was Texas, it was a copperhead. We had just bought bicycles. She spent the night in ER and returned with crutches, limping for months. The venom destroyed her nerve endings. We rented a small mobile home together. I lit unending candles. I watched her, every morning at 4 am, open the door to…