Playing god with a scorpion

3 02 2009

We found a scorpion in the tub. I killed it. I wrote about it.

 

What arduous journey
did he crawl to my world?

Over pipes coated slick
with wet skin sloughings
and tangles of hair
that snagged at his legs.

For what purpose,
the crawling and writhing
up from the dark?

Unnaturally vertical
he eked to the top –
the end of his world.

Only to find
a porcelain canyon
beneath a beige stucco sky.

He lay twisting
as I smashed and erased him
with Windex and my hammer –
aborted.


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