Carapace
What a strange thing to compare yourself to.
Something that slips from water to land
tastes the sun, slipping into the muddy dark again.
What a strange comparison
woman and reptile
warm and
cold-blooded.
Things that carefully harbor their eggs
let the sun run a hand of life over their hearts.
Lead them to the backwaters so they can grow into their shells, then fend for themselves.
Woman and reptile
deflecting the man jaws of living.
Retreating, then snapping a wary eye on the dark beak of life.
A favorite backwoods pond rimmed with Faries and such.
A favorite log to rest upon.
(me?)
Then what, a shadow comes along, then plunk-plink again.
Leaving purple ripples around these hungry hearts.
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