Excrement pours, splatting dewed grass, an unspoken promise of life left behind. Patience is a virtue as you wait for snail to chew and spew you in its burnished wake. Flavoured, you fake delicacy enticing your next victim, the ant, as your puppet on a string. Confused, it climbs to the tip of a grasses blade, dusk till dawn, day after day until digested. Today you turn cold; calculated; your killing cycle begins anew. You are the Lancet Fluke, Fluke by name, not fluke by nature.
by design, not chance
a little fluke of nature
survives all the odds
© PJ Perry
CITEȘTI
Atty Awards "2012" Poem Collection
PoezieFeaturing, Palindrome "Day and Night" - Haiku "There's Snowman Loves You More" - Rondeau "As Children Scream" - Reverse Etheree "Tick Tock Clock" - Choka "Orchestral Maneouvres of the Dark" - Sonnet "The Last Dodo" - Ode "Children of Odin" - Haibun...
