The serpent licks the air
with her tongue
which is like a
heat-seeking missile
with a coded launch-code
tracking the rodent
that has buried itself
beneath the earth’s surface,
deeper than the secrets
of a promiscuous housewife
The spider launches her assault
in the absence of the prey
lacing the later crime-scene
with her “lassos”, if you will
The pre-cognizance that allows her
not to be
the only (black) widow.
The cheetah pierces the wind
with the pace that
places the measurement of time
in
the backseat with groceries,
in the trunk with tools
or in the rvm
that reflects with the other fools.
Her Majesty, the queen of cats
leaves her seat but,
doesn’t descend from her thrown
The heavens randomly punctuate with thunder,
unable to contain the excitement
at her very gait
Those who consent
to her queenship follow keenly
as she poises
to quiet noises of
‘life, as I fall to my knees
They all gorge simultaneously,
deserting the customs
of hierarchical structure.
