Our floor is nothing but sand,
the small cottage we have rented.
Turtles turn slowly on our daily
walk to the beach and a serpent
bathes itself in light outside.
A lizard skirts along the wall.
The neighbors are beside us,
but barely there. Is that
their daughter?
In the night, as my feet pad across
the grainy tiles, I imagine creatures
with brown abdomens, venomous
fangs engineered to do me harm
and cannot sleep for my boiling,
poison pillow imagination.
