The new owners call them
virgin--their four acres
of desert--soon deflowered
by bulldozers, jackhammers
and posts driven in. A rattle
snake wanders in, not aware
he has been evicted
after a few million years.
Though he has no brows
I would swear he reared up
and raised them--a snake
afflicted with perplexity.
What has become here
of home? A call is put in
for the exterminator,
who has already dealt
with the cougar, coyote,
mountain lion, javelina
and quail. The wife dreams
of herself as Eve
in a garden, a snake
crawling near, wrapping
around her. His face
bears a resembance to Satan.
She wakes her husband
to tell him.
(c) 2009 by David Ray
"Four Acres" appears in The Anthology of New England Writers 2004 as an Editor's Choice.
