I read a story

I read a story
of a man
who charmed snakes
with a flute and his eyes.

cold blooded.

expressionless gaze
from the childhood books
that told
of death in seconds.

who knew what sun
baked those thin lives
as they lay in baskets
waiting for the market
to open?

what odd music
was their dance,
swaying there
while I held my breath,
afraid to look
or look away?

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Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.