Monday, August 21, 2006

The Huntress

Light upon the sun kissed apricot
The contortionist wore pajamas --
a whimsical tank top with neon pants
Skilled in the art of folding,
triangle, rectangle, rhombus.
With limbs, oversized for a bicycle.
Perfect for her chopper and French whore boots.

Weighted down by life's draining sands,
She devoured her mate in their bed of arugula.
His head no more than a spot of pus on her mandibles.
A nostalgic meal. Still her hunger grew.

Statuesque beneath her leafy shelter
Solitary -- An integer for the hunt
Dreaming of pulverized flesh.
A hyperbole of patience.

To the unsuspecting cicada,
the praying mantis whispered,
"Do you feel lucky?"

4 comments:

Idiot Cook said...

Damn! I need to do the group writing project. But after reading yours, what could I possibly write? This was fun. Loved the last stanza, especially the "Do you feel lucky?" line.

P.H. said...

FC, THANK YOU for commenting. I was starting to figure the poem was so bad that no one was willing to comment.

Sometimes, no I admit it, it's "always" I live for comments.

DawnApril said...

LOVE THIS POEM!!!! I LOVE IT!!!! And I agree with FC, Do you feel lucky just clinched the whole thing. MAN! Watch out RSG!!!!

Ms. Zuba said...

Wow...I don't get online to check blogs often dear or I would have responded sooner. I think our little group is atrting to embrace poetry...this was fantastic! I had no idea how I was ever going to include all those words....and look at you! You go girl!