Cobra Is I

I dreamt that you would
and that you really, really wanted to
ignore the toxins I sprout
and dip me serendipitiously
as you coddle me fearlessly into you.

But I excite your sensationalized fright
and I'm hanged by your eyes,
swaying against then with
the wind you whipped when you fled from me.

As I dangled, a nightmare secured my lynch.
I lied there bleeding on the ground,
the rope loosely cinched.

Then, a cobra slithered to me.
He shook his tongue inquisitively;
he tasted my stupidity.
Then, he viciously drove his fangs into me.

I was slain by the knowledge
that the poison that arrests me is solitary
because no one would ever marry
the clandestine death I carry.

So the dream that you would
or even that you really, really could
ignore the toxins I sprout
was foolishly driven,
as the cobra taught me when I was bitten.