Читать книгу Otherworld, Underworld, Prayer Porch - David Bottoms - Страница 13

Blessings, Yellow Mountain

I could have killed the snake.

I had a pistol in my belt, a 9mm, a Smith & Wesson,

accurate, deadly, and I was a good shot.

I could have easily killed the snake.

But Jack and I were walking his turf, walking federal land,

and he coiled so placidly

across the oak root, not even lifting his head

to acknowledge our passing.

I could have killed him with one shot. Nobody

would’ve heard. We were miles

from the nearest road.

But Jack wasn’t even curious, and kept pulling me

up the path, sniffing the ground, lifting

a leg to piss on a stone.

I studied the moccasin for a moment longer —

the fat and terrible muscle of him, his black scales rippling

while a small wind

brushed his back with shadows.

Beautiful, sure, but I thought better of inching closer,

then followed the tug of Jack’s leash.

Over the top of the ridge

sunlight sliced in layers through the trees,

and suddenly out of the branch quiver,

an antler moved.