O Cobra,
O King,
The title
Inherited in your name,
You are atop the hierarchy
Of your breed.
You are the ruler
Of the remaining variety
Of your breed—
Trying to remain atop
Of all who compete with you,
Trying to climb atop the hierarchical chain
To one day dethrone you.

But there may be doubt
About the inherent title
That you have entitled to you.
For you,
By name,
Are entitled to be a royal pain.
But you,
O Cobra,
O King,
Are not the only poetically evil invertebrate,
Nor the only lethal weapon
Of your breed.
You are not the only one
To be feared
And reckoned with.

What about the Boa?
Inherently bigger by build
And an uglier-looking fear
Than you own.
But more laid-back,
More likely to keep treaty with another,
And therefore,
Not the attack
Nor the mortality rate
That you own.

What about the Copperhead?
More comparably competitive
With a greater rate of attack
And a more inherent ability to remain hidden
Than you own.
But not the potent attack,
And therefore,
A greater recovery rate
Of the victim,
And therefore,
Not the mortality rate
That you own.

What about the Viper?
By name,
An unknowing victim
Will undergo a major “Pit”fall
Trying to fight
Or flee from one.
More inherently a true villain of venom,
Injecting a tinier quantity
With a quicker death rate
From the time of contact
Onto the victim,
It may have a more potent attack
Than you own.
But though it may have a quicker death rate,
It may be prone, by nature,
To not feel threatened
To the degree that you do
By a victim.
Therefore,
It may not have the attack rate
Nor the mortality rate
That you own.

What about the Python?
By name,
It can cuff
An unknowing victim
With the grip
Of a moray eel—
And with a power
That may even crumble
The “Rock” of Gibralter.
Though it may inherit more power
Than you own,
It may not have the agility,
Nor the quick to react,
Nor the quick movement
That you own.
Therefore,
It may not own the mortality rate
That you own.

What about the Anaconda?
Inherently gargantuan giant
With a mouth
And an appetite to match—
More to their extent
Than you own.
But not the difficulty
To flee from them
That you own.
Therefore,
It may not own the mortality rate
That you own.

By eliminating
Every rival competitor
Of your breed,
You,
O Cobra,
Are King.
The title
Inherited in your name,
You are atop the hierarchy
Of your breed.
You are the ruler
Of the remaining variety
Of your breed—
Trying to remain atop
Of all who compete with you,
Trying to climb atop the hierarchal chain
To one day dethrone you.
For the title
That you are entitled
May entitle you
To be a royal pain—
A lethal weapon
Of the poetically evil invertebrate.

Out in the open environment,
You hide,
Watch,
And guard your turf,
Defending your territory
In a continual attack mode,
Lurking,
Looming,
Watching,
Waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting.

Alarmed by an encounter
With an unknowing intruder.
Your black beady eye—
Watching.
Your figure—
Coiling—
Gathering internal energy.
You—
Waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting.

Then WHAM!
A jump!
A bite!
A double-cut!
Contact
From the free-jawing fang
Coupled with potent, malignant venom!

The intruder—
Cringing,
Recoiling,
Writhing,
Writhing,
Dying,
Dying in pain.
The intruder—
Frantic,
Panicking,
Finding a futile attempt
In finding a curable antidote,
Dying in pain,
Dying,
Dying,
Recoiling into death
While you recoil for a quick attack,
Dead.

You eliminated your intruder
And prepare for a future battle.
You,
O Cobra,
Are King.
And you will forever achieve
Your infamy
In your domain.
The title
That you are entitled to
Entitled you
To be a royal pain.
But beware!
Each intruder
You kill
May be
A royal pain
To you.
For one who may compete with you
May one day dethrone you—
O lethal weapon
Of the poetically evil invertebrate.

Russ Clement