Pumas Change On Saturdays Poem by Chester Whitfield

I bought new glasses
to see the bushes squirming
out of the corner of my eye
where the blood meets the beats
and the patterns form the messages
we’ve been waiting to see

And these new glasses have special mirrors
to see around the bushes
so there’s no hiding even
if the bushes blush blue like
the blueberries they bear each spring

But without the glasses I’m like
the blind little mice that eat
the tempting berries
and squirm at the knives and needles
poking through their furry tummies

And that’s why I have
new glasses but I’m still not sure
if they’ll work or even if they’ll fit
for they were made for a puma
and we all know what large heads pumas have