Lane Devers
No name
Here I am, building my altar. Here, the spine of a cow,
the tail of a squirrel, the skin of a snake, a girl abandoned
in her dorm room to die.
the tail of a squirrel, the skin of a snake, a girl abandoned
in her dorm room to die.
Here I am, standing in front of our refrigerator,
the freezer door wide open. Here, the dead mice
in a Petco bag tucked behind Eggo Waffles.
There she is, stretched along the living room floor.
Orange, breathing, hungry.
Orange, breathing, hungry.
There was never an agreement
if we should give her a name. Her heat lamp off for days,
if we should give her a name. Her heat lamp off for days,
no food, no water.
I’m told the rescue was quick.
I’m told the rescue was quick.
She only ever bites when provoked or hungry,
mistaking your hand for food. Ring finger wrapped
mistaking your hand for food. Ring finger wrapped
in bandage from the incident last week,
I am asked to help feed her.
I am asked to help feed her.
So here I am, asking you snake tightening around your neck
what would you have done? Other than agreed, and agreed, and agreed.
Lane Devers is from Carbondale, Colorado. His work has appeared or is forthcoming from places like the Adroit Journal, Heavy Feather Review, DREGINALD, Juked, and elsewhere. He currently attends Reed College.
