poetry

suburban gardens

crawling in the garden
its stinging tail, twitching
long, and pointed
such anger
such compulsion
to injure
a murderer’s quiet rage
jailed behind tiger-hide stripes
black bands painted upon saffron
leaving me curious, and fearful
I watched as it twitched
my skin chilled
under summer’s red zeal
knowing– if it came at me
if it dared approach near
I’d kill it
grinding its saffron pulp
beneath my shoe leather
to be sure
and why not?
with a million more, just like it
twitching somewhere
terrifying the men, the women
and the children
of suburban gardens
how might this
one
be missed?
and who would even know?

Published by

Eric

I've come to write.

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