An Unfulfilled Wish Poem by Mark Heathcote

I travelled into a world of folklore
And there was met by a black serpent
It had seven heads, and each head
Swallowed—put the others in internment.

Till there was only one left?
And it was the most powerful.
And it was the most beautiful.
But spiritually - the most - bereft.

It was here I heard a terrible hiss
It was here with dead, vacant eyes
It cried, demanding a compliant kiss
I asked what love it did conceptualise.

As a king of King Cobras:
It looked back, dejected, peevish-
Near somewhat hopeless.

As I left it, it then gazes back, thievish
I sensed it wanted me for its next dish
It had desires for me, an unfulfilled wish.