The Backs Of Helpless Animals Poem by Robert Rorabeck

So soon a snake will see he has no legs
As he crawls on his belly underneath the airplanes—
Going to a hole in the wall or
A wishing well—going beneath your sherbet dresses on
Easter—think you that he is jealous
Of those creatures with two legs, or four,
Like mythological dragons—
When his mind is as dark as coal and as sharp as
Diamonds—victim of the ancient double cross—
He gets by, but his entire body counts the
Earth, as you scream in the labors
Giving life to half-blood children with eyes of
Moonbeams and smiles of crocodiles—
And you love them even as they draw blood,
As werewolves you cannot even see jump upon
The backs of helpless animals outside your
Window—just like so many of us who never learned
How to stand.