BY DR. AGONSON
There’s no tomorrow here, no day or night to see;
there’s something growing near. I surely should just flee.
Then glinting in the dark I see the treasured prize.
Shadows unveil my mark, and it’s the creature’s eyes.
A snake a mile long, its scale as black as death,
this villain of my song spews poison for its breath.
Above, its mouth parts wide to encompass my frame.
I have nowhere to hide, so I will take my aim.
The fletching’s at my cheek; the point is on its eye.
In this glory I seek, I let the arrow fly.