Cockatrice

It clucked, and spat at the best of both worlds.

The monster hatched by a mother-serpent

from an egg laid by a too-proud rooster

twisted copper about a girl’s wrists, her

ankles, her throat.  It squatted, watched her, penned

a tribute with a claw pisswet, bloodwhorled,

and badinaged with her would-be saviour

and caught his eye and struck him blind and dead.

A winged beast can be so underhanded;

its pupils were graves dug amid sapphires…

Of course its parents were disappointed

but still loved it.  To test them it painted

over their scales or feathers as they slept

and rolled them howling down a rocky slope.