Charmer

He could have sworn he heard hissing
So he approached her from behind
Afraid to look at her face
And sure enough

Her hair didn’t cascade down
The full length of her back
But pooled up
Between her shoulder blades
Like a jumble of nesting serpents
In her hood

And when she asked him,
“What kinda music you into?”
He stared at his shoes
Because He knew
She was hunting his soul

“Depends on my mood,”
He mumbled.
“Figuresssss” she answered.
Then smelled the air
Between them
With the quick flick
Of a slightly forked tongue

He slowly
Found her eyes
And felt himself
Turn to stone