I can feel it now, the serpent gathering
Its coils in soft arabesques around my knees
And beginning, so, so carefully, to squeeze.
I can't decide what this means or what I mean,
Although I know too well what it means for me.
Could I be Apollo, one of many gods
Celebrated for wrestling snakes and dragons,
Symbol of triumph's divine authority,
Or Laoccoon, Asclepius, Adam,
One of the punished, or Nirah, half-serpent
Himself, at war with his own inhuman legs,
Writhing backdrop for Satan's comet crossing?
I could mean anything hidden in meanings,
Although it means I can mean nothing to me.
Smooth, gliding scales cinch hypnotized destiny.