The Impotent Snake Charmer who can’t Seduce His Wife by Daniel Romo

She tells her husband, “Snakes, are snakes. Women, are women.”
He plays his pungi like a Mumbai magician, hypnotizing his
reptilian partner in their street corner song and dance, far away
from the phosphorescence of Broadway, highlighting the slums of
Bombay. He neglects telling bystanders he’s not in danger. That
even though he appears within striking distance of a venomous
bite, a snake can only attack at one third its body length. The
snake’s mouth is sewn shut so that only his tongue can escape to
taste flesh. The charmer bites his own tongue; there is no need to
reveal this. He knows the snake is deaf to the music. But the
combination of cross-legged serenading and the allure of coil
delivering a mortal wound prove too profitable to disclose. At the
end of the day he places the snake back in the basket, gathers his
money and returns home. A cold dinner awaits him. Prepared by a
sleeping wife’s hand that only heats up—when her lonely
finger becomes a heated python in search of its prey.

Daniel Romo

Daniel Romo’s work appears or is forthcoming in Gargoyle, The Los Angeles Review, MiPOesias, Yemassee, and elsewhere. His first book of poetry, Romancing Gravity, is forthcoming from Pecan Grove Press. His second book of poetry, When Kerosene’s Involved, is forthcoming from Black Coffee Press. He teaches creative writing, and lives in Long Beach, CA. More of his writing can be found at danielromo.wordpress.com.

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