Ophite 

 
I dressed in barely opaque

Shed my old scales

Belted my waist with a tail-biting snake

Slipped on my silvery mail

I took a sliver of poisoned fruit

Held it under my tongue

Fell into the darkest mysteries

And spat it out when I was done.

Now I am making a tribe out of dirt and sea foam

We will charm snakes with our tongues

Levitate, slide, metamorphose,

And stare straight into the sun.

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