Rattle

I grew up in sagebrush

and rattlesnake country.

Though, I’ve never seen one:

a rattlesnake.

When I was 8, a boy

in my class was bit

at his birthday party

and rescued.

My friend who I call sister

watches for them

curling around fence posts

on her family farm.

A man I know

cuts their heads off and

lines their ropy bodies up

for pictures.

I find that sad,

don’t you?

Not everything

has the courtesy

to rattle.

Two technicians

with an ultrasound machine

can’t make

heads or tails

of the lumps

under my husband’s arm.

They tell him

to re-schedule

with new technicians

and stronger machines.

It’s probably nothing.

Don’t lymph nodes swell

all of the time?

Isn’t it true

we don’t always know

what the body does

and why it does it?

Still, if I could

root around

in his beautiful body

and wrench out

something monstrous

and squirmy--

I wouldn’t hesitate

to heave a sharp shovel

down upon

its neck.