The Vipers

You have to wade through the dogs, the vipers, the preachers, the brands
With nothing between you and their sharpened teeth
But the skin over your pale ivory skeleton
They can tear at the flesh. They can blacken tissue
They can bleed you. But they can’t break the bones
And when you’re through, when all that’s left
Is your breath on the air and their howls behind you
Raise the child in your arms to the sun
Give her light