SARAH CAREY

A Southern Black Racer Plays Dead in the Dollarweed

A frozen curve ten feet away, black sheen
on an island of mowed St. Augustine

in a resort full of snowbirds
where someone might perceive a pipe, perhaps a piece

of bent siding, death or its disguise
another, a native species, a lark—a novel sighting, serpentine—

might grab a hoe for quick dispatch
but I’m reminded how we burrow, seek refuge

in whatever landscape feels like home
until awakening to threat, we flee

we fly. I sense that soon he’ll race
to safety, don’t disturb, but inch within a stride of him—

white chin, gray underbelly
buried in the dollarweed, then sidestep

one yard shy of his body onto asphalt,
a sea of out-of-state-plates.

Some might not see a snake displaced,
but I’m in awe of Coluber constrictor priapus—

know why he hides.
Know nothing harmless here abides.  

Sarah Carey is a graduate of the Florida State University creative writing program. Her poems have appeared recently in Gulf Coast, Five Points, Sugar House Review, Florida Review, Redivider, and elsewhere. Her book reviews have appeared in Salamander, Tinderbox Poetry Journal and the Los Angeles Review. Sarah's poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, the Orison Anthology and Best of the Net. Her debut full-length collection, The Grief Committee Minutes, was released from Saint Julian Press in September 2024. Her next book, Bloodstream, is under contract with Mercer University Press for publication in 2026. Sarah also is the author of two poetry chapbooks, including Accommodations (2019), winner of the Concrete Wolf Chapbook Award. Visit her at SarahKCarey.com, on Instagram @skcarey1, Bluesky @saycarey1.bsky.social or Twitter/X @SayCarey1.