i have holes in my feet.

i guess we all have our

own nails, you said

as we slithered across

the street.

we have snake bodies.

we shed our human bodies

a long time ago, when we

became full of too many 

holes, when we ran out of

nails.

now we slither, unhinge

jaws and one layer

of skin dies and becomes

a ghost, we left our limbs

and our nails and our crosses

back home.

we are snakes

who eat nails

for breakfast.