One of Them

The body is a prison

And having limited say over the decor of my cell

Is not nothing.

I can have it all, as long as it fits in my 6' by 6' container.

*

Fingertips outstretched I feel for the edges

Stroking the contours of what could be,

Looking in rearview mirrors at Medusas that would freeze me in a shape I'm not ready to stop in.

Hissing contented snakes writhe in my crown.

*

Soft, my snakes, and freeze not these crowds

I need them lively, curious,

So they may approach and be not afraid

I don't bite but it's the assumption of my nature that stops you in your tracks

Come closer and see the ecosystem

Interconnected, the danger I wear on my skull

Find it comforting that two things so different live here as one

For if this is possible, what other harmonies could we arrange?