can kill a fellow

my dad taught me how
to catch snakes. you have to grab
right behind their jaw.
he showed me how to check the colors.
a rhyme about yellow & black
& red. the snakes' bands expanding to lash us
together like twigs. the tall grass
around the duck pond hushing
from an august breeze. i do not know why
we caught snakes. we always just
released them when we were done.
our hands trembling in the grasp.
my father's hands were like stones.
callous & unmoving. a jaw of their own. 
mine, still soft. i loved the texture
of their snakes. smooth & otherworldly.
once he did catch a venomous one.
she writhed. her tail lashing a language
into the air. i touched her & she bore
her fangs. daggers. her eyes like pricks
of night. i was not scared of her at all.
i felt sadness envelop me. i begged my father
to let her go. of course, he did.
we walked her around to the far end
of the park where no children went.
it was the ghost place. somewhere the snake
could live unbothered. i was afraid
that when my father let go 
she would turn & chase us but she
did not. instead she took her language
& our human-mouth rhyme with her.
we didn't catch many snakes after her.
moved on to bull frogs & then to fish. 
i turned into a girl & my father into a man. 
the sun a rubber ball. the night, a sea
of snake eyes staring down at our hands.