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"Poem for a Bark Scorpion.."

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Threader of
quasi-tentacular horrors,

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neither reticulate nor fanged.

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Just an unopposed claw
to steady a friend

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and lower a push pin
into easy conversation.

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I palm you in a dream to
study that phantom lime

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spittle of what's awake
for not much longer.

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Your cantilevered
strike-- almost feathery,

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almost childish, dawdling,
or snaky from behind,

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listing the sting in.

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But it's your mummy cloth,
holding a warm stranger still,

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that brings me up in the night.

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[APPLAUSE]

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