The Sum of His Parts

The Sum of His Parts


Driving home, I ran over a bull snake
and tore it into three pieces.

I didn't mean to kill the thing.
I thought it was the thin shadow

Of a telephone pole stretched across the
road. I realized it was a snake

Only after I'd run it over.
Thump, thump:

That's the percussion
of car tires and snake.

After I ran over it, I stopped,
left the car idling,

And walked back
to the three pieces of snake.

In death-shock, the head and tail
thrashed separately

Against the pavement
that had been its warm rock.

The middle piece, strange
and disconnected, did not move.

I said a prayer
to the Snake God,

And wondered if such a God exists.
That's theology.

If the Snake God does exist,
then it is likely the same

As every other God;
unreachable.

I didn't want the snake's body to be
insulted by other cars and their drivers,

So I dragged the tail off the road to the
west, and the head off the road to the east,

But could not touch the middle piece
because it was flattened and gory.

Satisfied that I had shown the snake
enough respect, I drove away.

But two miles up the road, I turned
around and traveled back to the snake.

I don't know if there is a Snake Heaven,
but I didn't want the snake to suffer

Because of my doubts.
If the snake's three pieces arrived

separately in Heaven,
would any of them be able to find
the others?

I dragged the tail and the middle
across the road and laid them beside
the head

Because snake + snake + snake = snake.


Sherman Alexie

from his book FACE.