Snakes in the Pine Straw

Jerry Bradley

October 1, 2022

The greatest poverty is not to live in a physical world.

Wallace Stevens, “Esthétique du Mal”

In summer, cooled by earth, water, or shading clouds,

creatures frequently sink to their lowest level,

each a good day to be alive and wanting no more

than to be left alone with food and drink nearby.

I know that desire -- to be as invisible as a neutron star,

the taste of a ripe melon -- and I too resist

when prodded from my bed or cushy mud

by the thrutch and squeeze of too much life.

Even when you start with nothing, it’s hard to keep it,

almost impossible to stay comfortably warmed

and braddled just out of sight.  Some stumbling fool

always seems to come along.  But we should be forgiven

for imagining more than we have, by the choice

of words that shaped our choice of worlds.

Jerry Bradley is a member of the Texas Institute of Letters and the author of 6 full-length poetry collections. He is the poetry editor of Concho River Review and a past president of the Texas Association of Creative Writing Teachers.