How does a snake solve a maze?
Does it wrap itself around?
What if it’s long or paper thin,
Does it fold into a crown?
Would it twist around the corners,
Or climb above the walls?
Does it slither or does it slink?
Or does it go at all?
How does a snake know where the entrance is?
How does it know if it gets lost?
Do snakes use maps as vestiges
Of the pathways that they’ve crossed?
Do snakes get bored and [take little] naps?
Do they stop for brunch or tea?
When snakes get really lonely,
Do they try to chat with bees?
Do snakes know where they’re going?
Do they ever forget where they’v been?
Do snakes make plans? Do they improvise?
Do they need often to count past ten?
Do snakes like pretty pictures?
Can you put them in a trance?
If you taught them all the steps,
Could you ask a snake to dance?
When asking silly questions,
It’s easy to get lost,
But as long as you keep going,
You’ll make it out before the frost.
Unless you are a snake, and then, and maybe then—
Oh… but I don’t know…
If I ever see such a fellow,
I’ll ask her how it goes.
“How does a snake solve a maze?”
I wonder if she knows.
Henry Skalbeck (they/them) is a graduating senior majoring in Film Studies. They have been variously interested in (poetry) writing since around middle school but got back into poetry last summer as an outlet to help me balance some other things going on in my life. They especially like reading out loud and experimenting with how words can feel in your mouth.
Lucky Bug Magazine 