Uncomfortable
A contemptuous shimmer in his eye.
His body coils along the trunk.
An empty stomach fuelled only by anger.
Looming ominously from the sky.
He hangs from the branch,
lolling, staring, waiting.
Waiting for a victim
to constrict and inflict.
He stares.
He waits.
He starves.
Too late?
No. Not today.
Copyright © Sean Martin-Byrne | Year Posted 2017
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