Mantis Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
Mantis
This motionless twig of jade
from some ancient dynasty
glows with malice in the shade.
The high priestess of the Styx
then bends her arm at the knee,
seems to lick a finger, then flicks
away a morsel disdainfully.
Post-coital esurience assuaged,
she is again a twig under a tree.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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5/19/2024 4:23:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
