Anaconda

Sreekumar K

Coiled around 

Its own slimy self

An anaconda heaves away

Its hours inside my left foot

Prodded by the surgeon

Enticed by the nurses

Stared at by the attendants

Worshipped by the onlookers with bhakthi

It seems to revel in the attention it tongues

 

One hole to piss, shit, spit, drain the sweat and stench off and look out

Thick soft stuff wound all around

Enjoys its stay, thanking me

For having swallowed it

 

At night it unwinds 

Just when I toss around in bed

To make itself more comfortable

in the oozing slime of its cave

Polluted blood streams irritate it

Granules of chemicals make it itch

Lack of vermin starves it

It is planning to decline the offer

And pack up and leave

When no one is looking

Leaving behind the sheer pain of its existence