The Long Line

You don’t admire snakes, you can’t
Stand strong winds, and though you dwell
On yourself when in yourself,

You’re not sure you like yourself.
So sure, why not represent
Yourself as a snake of wind,

As a great, windy dragon
Of days winding through the world,
What you are as what you aren’t,

Ludicrous myth of small you?
You uncoil, spread leathery
Wings, belch smoke, and slowly rise

Through the mornings, a terror
In the air that sinks at night
Down through watery caverns,

A sliding scale of being,
Worm that added claws and wings,
Swallowing your own hot air.