Sophia fled the king. His blasphemies
rattled the earless adder, who awoke
and began to gulp whatever wouldn’t choke
its glided 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 rent gleam
of the adder’s eyes revealed no change of mood
as they 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.