Diamondbacks
Like an organ coiled
deep inside or a lasso
of lightning and high
noon, the rattlesnake
traveled the length
of my spine, sunning itself
inside me. Then death—some
call it god—drew a diamond
on the snake’s back,
and marked my chest
with feeling. How godly
the two of us were, shaking
what was hollow.
Dirt stained
the front of my blouse.
I felt venom
rise in my ears. I heard
the snake molting,
turning my skin bronze
and flawless. This is how
I became a woman,
sun rattling
across my back,
dust glittering my tongue,
the snake’s tail whirring
Ama Codjoe