Sally and the Serpent

Sally liked to pose lasciviously with her serpent.
She supposed, with justice, that the lusty
sultry tropic power of this trope – this phallic snake
and semi-clad fresh-showered female flesh
(she knew she did not look half-bad in her sky blue
bikini) – might attract, it's safe to say, more than

a teeny portion of a man's attention. As for “art,” 
if shecould get the right po-mo critique to do its part,
and some Soho photographer with cheek – and chic –
she might well dominate the right exacting galleries,
extracting salaries for her and her reptilian lover.
Ah! But that’s what blew their cover. They were

found in bed one day achieving pleasures one can't
bring oneself to say. Laws against such unapologetic
bestiality held sway. The serpent was then
“put away,” and Sally died in jail. They say some
days, next to her cell, you still can hear her serpent’s
lovelorn wail. There is no moral to this tale.


 
 
 
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