Mongoose & Cobra

Mongoose & Cobra

…rising up on a

singular body stalk,

head fanning out,

intimidating in her

mesmerizing dance,

swaying back and forth,

like Death’s metronome,

an insinuated fatality,

if and when this

little mongoose decides

to believe the intended


…but generations past

have taught mongoose

that cobra’s transformation

is mere show.

King Cobra

is filled with the

very same fear,

a fear of death,

that she is trying to


toward her natural enemy.

Fur rising on his nape,

as his mother’s lessons

return through his blood

and course through his body,

he doesn’t even

have to give consideration

to what his muscles

spring to.

All this towering

serpent knows is

mongoose was there

at one instance,

and now has

his teeth


in her neck.

Suddenly, the writhing

dance of death

begins in dust

and spit

amidst the musty clouds

of dirt

on India’s copper veldt.

As I watch,

feeling now,

my own deadly appetites

rise up and fan out,

a taste coming into

my mouth,

saliva filling up

under my tongue,

this death’s-head

of addiction

rhythmically weaving

its lies,

bobbing for weaknesses,

it’s diseased mind-muscle


waiting to strike –

I smirk to myself,

in mongoose-wisdom,

knowing full well

with life’s lessons learned…

…this beast doesn’t stand a chance.


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