To a Basilisk's Shed Skin
by Nyx
*
Your eyes
Mirror death and terror, yet I can see
My reflection in their inky pools
Why?
I am defenseless against your coiled viridian self
Powerful, dealing in souls
And lives
Ivory fangs drip ichor and beckon me
Into your cavernous mouth; how many
Others have they entranced?
O, King-snake, you truly are a work of art,
A study in serpentine muscle and venom.
Your shed skin is fragile,
Massive yet light. I can see through
The paper-thin scales,
Imagine your great sinuous self.
*
Note: this is my first original poem. It needs no disclaimer, as I never mention a character.