Poems of compassion dedicated to the non-human animals who share this planet
with us and the people who fight for them.
Snake eyes,
some crap shoot game
made you some loser, no advance
at the pass line, the come bet,
as if you’ve nothing to offer,
as if your dots spell trouble
as if there’s nothing to count on
there, your odds being 36 to 1
at the hard way place for craps
entertainment to make you fade
into rarity, misunderstanding
metonymy into bad name
once again snake eyes for fear
your winning in the field line
as something players want to see
your slithering in your field of green
or desert sand is where I meet
sidewinding to serpentine, your eyes,
those lens for seeing blue and green
and infrared to—who knows what else—
in human eyes, path to open dread.
©Lynne Goldsmith, 2021
Winter Orion from Pixabay
Photo by Egor Kamelev from Pexels.jpg
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