Cobra Lunch

The t.v. screen goes blank, then green,

Split by a serpent's pupil, black.

Down glowing matrix glass, a track

Of dead cells slice.

Stunned like a rat, pink-nosed and fat,

'Neath shadows of the sheaves of grain,

Slumped, mesmerized, in awe of Pain,

I hear soft words that reassure

"Don't fffear! Don't move! Don't even sssstir!"

Hiss-words my sad, small self entice.

The galaxies wheel back and freeze

My steady heart to ice.

O cobra saint, unwarm, unquaint!

Sink onto knees! Oh no! Oh please!

Despair is Joy! The spirit longs!

-- Attention! Rapture! Welcome fangs! --

Longs to endure swift venom pure,

And bid adieu to air.