A girl briefly met Death after

Hissing for twelve years and 

Death was prompt and eager.

The container of her life

Turned against her.

What could this girl have done to be banished 

From her source of life? 

 

The girl was marked forever 

With gift from Death, as a reminder 

Of his visit.

His gift ran down her support and told

The world of her encounter.

 

At first she could not hide,

Or embrace,

Or look

At her gift from Death. 

Soon, that gift left her

Strangling herself, as 

Her spine tightened around

Her heart and lungs. 

 

I am that girl.

I am jealous of the way you stand;

Straight, free from Death,

Natural.

I stand twisted, 

coiled in a 

Permanent slither;

Always reminded of my meeting with Death. 

 

What is it like to not slither?

Do you earn comfort from it?