Paper Serpent in Camo

Snake sneaks, skulks, every soul

Since Adam’s infected; the purity

Of motives stained by dread disease; control

At best compromised, worst lost; parity

With God! the serpent’s pitch.

Papered behind every good deed, poison:

More than a slight tickle for fame, the itch

For stardom, status and recognition.

Sower of doubts scuttles

Flat and in cloud colored camo; confused,

Muddled abstractions sown; seed struggles

In weeds; the concreteness of crops refused.

Thrust to head a Heel; bruised,

In a slight shift the sleight of hand is bound

And blind men in binds find that they are loosed

And salvation for sinners can be found.

Gary Edward Geraci