The Serpent

Slithery and salacious in it’s movement Curvy and bewitching in it’s twists and turns
Vulturous in it’s action Rapacious in it’s dance
Being Vasuki Wanting not to leave the blue necked Is yanked by the sturdy hand
The satiny body crushed Disfigured by the fear of disembodiment
Lie the insensate Like an inanimate
With pensive drowning eyes of remorse
Alas! She still spits venom begrudgingly again! Maybe all the proffered milk was poison Maybe all the milk she had turned toxic Maybe she also drank a little from Shiva
Fatigued and repentance filled She strips once again For the mores to come
