Sophia fled the king. His blasphemies
rattled the earless adder, who awoke
and began to gulp whatever wouldn’t choke
its growing throat: today, some butterflies;
next month, whole hecatombs. It wasn’t wise
to fight that adder, though it didn’t seem
to mind Megara’s missiles. The slit gleam
of the adder’s vision revealed no change of mood
as it blinked ever wider and its rude
hosts watched their spears bounce off its pebbled scales.
Apparently indifferent to the wails
Megarans’ prayers excreted, the adder wrapped
its coils around the walls until they snapped.