It’s All Light Under These Neon Eyes
Who’s turn is it to pick up the flute to hypnotise the prey, staring down these unblinking eyes? Figurines to whisper in tongues to. Cobras blamed for dancing when we should tear to pieces the very mouths that sing them songs. Serpent bodies jerked to a halt across our floors–they drop like heavyweights. Technology can take many forms, shapeshift like the fantasy pythons charmed into a trance. Naturally, we never blame the singers for the bites on their necks. We hoped Cleopatra’s snakes would appear as if themselves were charmers, expecting from them not a bite but frank verses set to a lullaby.