QUINN RENNERFELDT
Young Snakes
This poem was sparked by overhearing my daughters’ imaginative play, and being struck by their syntax and world-building. On the page is the tension of being both my children’s protector and, at times, the cause of their hurt, and the grief that comes with this knowledge.
My daughters make young snakes
from the lilac yarn
they dip into bathwater,
watching them become floss
and wearing them as if hair
I scoop each child from the water
and perch behind their blonde heads,
working the brush’s bristles through
until I hit a knot
and do the hurtful work
of separation
I am turned to stone
with every ratted tangle,
their small crowns whipping out of reach
from the pulling pain
My hand hovers in air
to release the stolen strands
let loose from their roots,
limp serpents
blending into the woodgrain
like blonde scales hidden in sand
I imagine their hair as fierce vipers
fanged against the warm-blooded world,
and some days it is impossible
not to feel complicit
in the erosion of power
each girl first holds inside the nest of her body,
until it hardens into stone and drops
from the body like a severed head
Quinn Rennerfeldt is a queer poet, parent, and partner earning her MFA at SFSU. Their work can be found in Cleaver, SAND, elsewhere, Salamander, Fractured Lit, and Flash Frog. Her chapbook, demigoddess semi lustrous will be published by dancing girl press in Fall 2023. They are a reader for Split Lip Magazine and Flash Fiction Magazine.