for D H Lawrence
She saw the snake skin first,
against the wall,
like crumpled paper,
and we rushed to read it
for clues and explanations
as though it were a discarded
love letter, which in a way it was.
We knelt together over it
with a curious reverence,
our own itchy skins full
of admiration and envy
for that ease of removing ourselves,
without the need of water, or wind.
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