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This is probably a little weird for you
 and your family, but we heard you've got a cavern
  in your yard with the largest concentration of snakes
  in the Western United States. It was on This American Life,
   I'm sure you know. We wonder where they came
    from, in a quiet neighbourhood like this? Old
    Pádraig's secret stash? Your boy Jim digging for worms
     with hypertrophic success?

      We want ten minutes, in silence and
      alone. We know all about Mrs. Kent's
       patellofemoral pain and we are prepared
        to be very generous with our time
         and talent. But leave us now and lock
          yourself inside.

Twilight in Wisconsin and the lawn
is white with doctors
, flanneling moistly
over soil and stone. Together they descend
the sloping pit while Croc the Spaniel peers
curiously from the window of the house.

Underearth,
things reduce.
Proud white coat
and bedside manner
are effaced by
the damp and rooted
dark; pocketed japes
about penmanship and pianos
unhumor and disperse.

Tenderly
the doctors
part snarls
of coil and
engross
downwards,
waiting
to feel
their limbs
encircled,
made
healing
staves.