In the Den of Nagaina
Sean Whalen
Aunt Anne reads “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi”
his tail like a bottlebrush
Being four, I don’t know what a bottlebrush is
but I like the way she chitters Rikki’s war cry
Rikk tikk tikki tikki tchk!
and Rikki’s eyes of red.
Near the story’s end
never follow a cobra down its hole
the metallic tapping of her foot brace on the wheelchair quickens
and she steals glances
the widow will never come out again
at my gramma in the kitchen.
I remember how, when she finishes, kissing my nose,
ding, dong, tok!
the smell of snake lingers on her lips.
Sean Whalen
Aunt Anne reads “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi”
his tail like a bottlebrush
Being four, I don’t know what a bottlebrush is
but I like the way she chitters Rikki’s war cry
Rikk tikk tikki tikki tchk!
and Rikki’s eyes of red.
Near the story’s end
never follow a cobra down its hole
the metallic tapping of her foot brace on the wheelchair quickens
and she steals glances
the widow will never come out again
at my gramma in the kitchen.
I remember how, when she finishes, kissing my nose,
ding, dong, tok!
the smell of snake lingers on her lips.