LatinosUSA

Spider

There is a red fly swatter
on top of the refrigerator,
three steps away from any point
in the kitchen, sure death
for any airborne invader,
no mercy shown.

On the windowsill
is one of those lidded,
round containers
which originally held
balsamic vinegar
for a take-out salad.

She uses it to capture
spiders, gently,
easing them into the cylinder
then sliding on the cover
so she can safely release them
outside,

guarding the web of her kitchen.
I call it love.
I call it tenderness,
ecological concern,
maybe even
professional courtesy.

~~

Door Stop

My dog lies like a slug
outside the screened door,
pondering. He’s fixing to eat breakfast.
He’s going to catch him a rabbit,
the big one out by the garden patch.

He stretches and looks at his watch,
thinks better of it, rolls over on his back,
the rabbit fading out of memory,
eventually sequestered in the closet,
a pinhead eternity.

All this excitement coming before noon,
buttoned away, not so much as a woof
of his own, ignominious,
slouching back to puppy reality,
still blocking the doorway.

~~

Shades

Dressed in shades of shiny black,
a drop of red upon his wing,
he soars above a tiny shack,
views the woman in the swing
gliding slowly front to back
and Jill’s forgotten how to sing.

Dressed in shades of ebony,
a drop of red upon her cheek,
she raises up her eyes to see
the red rose clasped within his beak,
for he must circle endlessly
and Jack’s forgotten how to speak.

Dressed in shades of black and red
they meet at midnight in the dream.
They pull the shades and make the bed
and nothing is as it may seem,
the songs are ringing in her head,
his words two muted souls redeem.