It Will Live

The serpent will never die.
It will live in fingernails and knuckles,
in the sudden itch of late night skin.

It will slither through small talk
in pub gardens and Christmas parties.
It will wrap around indecision

and forgetting simple tasks
and the mulling over and mulling over
and repeating and repeating

and the constant fog.
The serpent will never die.
You will learn to ride it.