The toad had already lost the left leg
Down the gullet of the snake,
the other foot pawing, ineffective, at
the scaled nose then trying, feeble, to flip,
forelegs tracing slow, useless circles in the air.
The snake icy calm, barely moving,
the lungs gradual bulging even, measured.
Then the tinniest, lazy nibbles, securing the left hip.
There is no hurry, here. You and I,
we have all the time in the world.
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