Isthmus Poem by Stan Petrovich

By the time my back was covered
With the black and stringy hair
I got rid of the last of my clothes;
Then I began to howl at night
Looking out over the green shallows,
Toward the Isthmus,
Where somehow I knew there dwelt others like me.
Also this is when I began to eat centipedes.
How to cross the short straight,
Get to the Isthmus?
I could swim it;
Or actually wade across.
And when I find them,
It will be time to eliminate them,
Letting my fur-covered hands crush them down.
Then, only then,
I shall be King of my world.