For Lauren

“Don’t squeeze it. It won’t come out. The venom’s already in your tissues.” Were you really that calm? “Look in the storm, it’s the best thing to see right now.” How did you sit up so straight-backed and unafraid?

“But…” I said. I was looking towards you.

“No. Leave it.”

It didn’t even hurt. Eventually, a little burning and swelling but it wasn’t any worse than a wasp. The men chopped the snake in two as soon as he yelled. He could see one of the older men taking the carcass away, almost certainly for roasting. He saw the concern in their faces when they hoisted him. He knew he needed a guide and they felt his need.

You took him in and watched us with me. I held your leg as you acknowledged the venom. And it hurt. And we hurt. And you said, “Look in the storm. Isn’t it beautiful from a distance?” And it was.

It’s hard to sleep after that. Now I check for the bite scar to remind myself that this is all still a dream. I have to cover up just in case I wake up wrong. But you make sure to keep me in bed until it passes. I didn’t know you could heal too.  When I get up, you say you were scared too but I can’t tell. You are straight-backed and unafraid.

You told me to leave it. “It won’t grow. It’s been a long time. We survived it.”

Then I can’t take it anymore and tell you about the hot purple storm and nitrogen and the atmosphere and how the lightning fertilizes our plants. The Nitrogen Cycle. I get embarrassed again for intellectualizing but you surprise me by thanking me for planting clover.

You laughed and then we cried. Every storm is different. They change by the second. That hot purple bruise in the sky moved off with the wind and we didn’t even get rained on.