To The Thinking Camel Cricket
That bent-legged audacity
compelling your
jumping cockeyed bravery
to cross thresholds,
climb silently through
damp basement spaces
to enter darkened dwellings
only to receive a
post-shriek boot to your humped back,
a trigger-forced splash of spray, or
a body glued immovable--
Once I understood your
blind defenselessness,
seemingly random leaps meant
to terrify your
own larger fears,
my unease around you
lessened
Still, though
take your crooked-bodied friends
and
get out of my house.
Rebecca M. Ross is originally from Brooklyn but currently lives, hikes, and teaches in New York’s Hudson Valley. Rebecca’s writing has recently been published in Uppagus, Whimsical Poet, Streetcake Magazine, The Westchester Review, Soul-Lit, and Peeking Cat. She has poetry forthcoming or published in Last Leaves, Pif Magazine, and The Metaworker.
That bent-legged audacity
compelling your
jumping cockeyed bravery
to cross thresholds,
climb silently through
damp basement spaces
to enter darkened dwellings
only to receive a
post-shriek boot to your humped back,
a trigger-forced splash of spray, or
a body glued immovable--
Once I understood your
blind defenselessness,
seemingly random leaps meant
to terrify your
own larger fears,
my unease around you
lessened
Still, though
take your crooked-bodied friends
and
get out of my house.
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