It is 3 am and the black sky
overhead resembles a snake,
onyx coils poised to strike. I am
Cleopatra and these pearls will
prove my noose.
A string of pearls, how queer
to see them dangling so. I would
take them in my hands but they
will not last. 3 am is, of course,
the witching hour
and being such, everyone knows we
are prey to flights of fancy. The coils
will soon tighten around me, and I
will forget how to breathe, and
off I'll go. E'in Sof.
