Now wasn't that a Merry Dish

Four and twenty tarantulas
all squirming in a pie
with lumps and bumps and crevices
and sockets there for eyes.

Four and twenty tarantulas
all hungry for a mouse
or a hapless hummingbird
(they're waiting at your house).

Four and twenty tarantulas
press on the soggy skin
and angled legs protrude
like hair on head and chin.

Now, when the pie burst open
the spiders freely crawled,
but, oh, look at the pastry
still splattered on the wall.


(1988)

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream like a Dog

It begins with a twitch, the flip of a paw,
there on the floor before us,
a finger to the lips, "Shh...she's dreaming,"
then flipping paws, all legs jerking,
after that squirrel, no doubt, or...who knows;
she may catch it this time,
in her dreams.
Now a growl, a snarl,
probably for that pit or rotty
(I wouldn't do it, Pinky;
don't turn this into a nightmare),
muffled barks through fluttering jowls.
Quiet again.
Her tail's wagging, "Look at that!"
Now running again, just running, running.
O, to be outside the fence,
free of leash, free of chain,
forever.


01/03/2013