In my room, there is a serpent,
Slow and gorgeous to behold…
She is calm and introverted
Much like I, and just as cold.
As I’m writing in the evening,
She is sitting by my side,
Her indifferent eyes won’t leave me,
Shining emerald in the night.In the dark, I sob and whimper
But the icons don’t reply…
My requests would be so different
If it wasn’t for those eyes.
In the morning, when I’m weary,
Like a candle, melting thin,
A black ribbon slithers freely
Down across the shoulder skin.
poem: anna ahkmatova
image: A Map of the Open Country of Woman’s Heart via even cleveland