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Snake in a Glass Box

If there is something sadder
than a snake, wild and honest

in a clean glass box
defeated, who does not move any fraction of an inch

when the boy taps the glass, I’m not sure
what that is. Her length hugs all four colorless walls

mouth to tail, she is become simply a rectangle of muscle
trying to remember, once animal, now

the measure of a sturdy glass box — and there!
the waiting mouse in a small cage on the shelf, unaware.

—
Kenneth White earned his M.A./Poetry in the 70s but only started seeking publication in 2023. His poems have appeared in The Paterson Review, Comstock Review, Pinyon, California Quarterly, The RavensPerch, Stone Canoe, Front Range Review, and Abandoned Mine. Now retired from a career in animal rescue, Santa Fe is home.

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