Wednesday, October 2, 2013

To The Western Fence Lizard

You have found your place

in the sun, that niche                                        

of intermittent light

beneath the looser weave

of a wicker bench.


Hidden from hawks

you lie there safe, elegantly sly

on a slab of concrete

like that of  an ornament

on a Jaguar hood.


But you are not all show

and sleek seduction.


Your blood carries

a protein that cleanses

the lime tick of his bane

while your tongue

desacralizes  a halo

of gnats.


You have learned ways

to  temper  heat and shade,

boost and guard

the yard’s eco system.


And though named

after the high place

where most of your species

will crawl, you prefer

our  stoop to the wall. And with

such nimble feet, you could scale

 or cling to the stones


but like me, you must fear

being cornered, pushed

up against yourself. The most

vulnerable part


that sheds poise, losing

its way of saving grace.

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