All Snake, No Tail

It was the gift of talk
That wooed me. I would have

Been fine as a mere beast,
I guess, but what a chance

To work the world by words.
This was a myth, of course,

Spun by words to start with,
A tale for hearth and home—

God knows how old it is.
There had to be a deal,

A catch, a trick, a plot
Point. I was not to tell

How I came by the gift,
Why, of all the green woods

You folks walked on two feet,
I was the one, just one

Who was not you, who got
The chance to play with words.

That was the deal. Don’t tell.
In the end, not too hard.

Why would you think to ask?
All your thoughts were for you,

What it would do for you,
The sweet juice of that fruit.

It’s not hard to coil poems
Past those who just pick things

They think might help them get
What they want out of life.

So, I held up my end
Of the deal. And my thanks?

A warped text makes it seem
I had legs and lost them.

No, no. I got to go
And go. No heads, no tails.