It's Mother's Day
I can't believe she'd want to give it up.
Bad vibes, she said. Too
The dancer with the cunning tongue
I picture him totally out of control
his goatee flecked with spit
ready to snatch away
No wonder Zuni
why he's mascot to despair.
Bobbing and weaving he circles
he's been known to tease, to change
his shape, disappear
there are those who've seen him
dining at the finest tables
My neighbor recounts the time
in the desert
fed her a meal of free-range hen
turning loose a tantalizing truth she'd been forced to hide for years.
he holds the lever