the black snake stretches languidly across the land

unfurled over hills and vales

craning its head back as it beckons, sans hand

come, faster, faster you must prevail



you reach out to attack the black snake

grasping, clutching, familiar smells of the hunt return

bringing with them the pain and ache

you push, feeling the burn, avoiding deaths urn



those familiar markings on the naked skin

as you flick through the curves at high speed

the evocative colours of the original sin

all happening so fast you battle to read



always playing catch up with that snake

but it keeps unfurling further and further

hoping against hope you can still partake

before your fuel vanishes into the ether



this never ending unfolding black dream

eludes all who demand the chase

its best just to sit by the stream

and be enfolded by the soothing grace

of the snakes coup de grace

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich