Anticoagulant

You sing when the serpent strikes—
With, not in despite of, it—
Since you know this serpent’s good

For you, or, if not for you,
For singing. The medicines
For so many miseries

Are found in nature’s venoms
Of one kind or another.
Life has so many weapons.

The frontline’s always moving
Among the microbes, the plants,
The herbivores, carnivores,

Omnivores, commensalists,
Mutualists, parasites,
And what’s a weapon for one

Is a shield for another,
Is a balm for another,
And culture’s no different,

The arts are no different.
Once the venom hits your brain,
Thoughts slow, and you sing again.