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spysgrandson
Poems
Feb 2016
the shape shifter
I hoped to become an eagle
soaring above amber waves of grain
seeking perch in rarefied air
a red-tailed hawk,
or even a garden warbler
would have sufficed
instead I metamorphosed
into a mosquito and found myself
skulking on a fine lady's arm
I could only hope
she wouldn't swat me
before I drank my red full
and took flight into dusk
or returned
to my pitiable simian self,
lice laced andΒ Β homeless, hunkering
in a cold corner, wishing
I could fly
Written by
spysgrandson
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