Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Monday, June 15, 2020

Sonnet #294

The mantis takes the color of flowers,
the shape of leaves and thorn, the hunter
always looks alike to what has power
to seduce the victim close, it's hard to fear
such beauty, the smell in the air of finest 
nectar, the promise of food or drink, all clear;

There are jobs where people do their best
That people ought not to do, folks wind down
Working and falling behind and working and behind
The basilisk waits for us in the million wires grown
where we allow it to grow, the coiling and unwind
in shadow places, in the edges of the law and the known

Approach the flower at your own peril, be wary, be brave

The snapping jaws will close. For retirement, save.

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