Sunday, October 7, 2007

Poverty Pig

They ask what kind of animal I am
and why.
Glance out the window
choppy grass yard
dead summer flowers
give off sweetness of decay...

I am an armadillo.
My nose is too long and pointy
and my tongue,
probing for tasty ant bits
hidden underground.
Tail a counterbalance
or perhaps
a Havisham wedding train.
You cannot harm me.
My armored back protects me
if you flip me over
my too-soft belly is easily gutted.
And, one day, I will be roadkill.

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