Fall 2017 (Volume 21, Issue I)
Under the lone stone, the eel
hid from the white light.
Tempted, maybe, by the fiddler
sized orange claw held out like
Hector when outside
the walls he begged for life. The eel
sat quiet, no
pitched fight or fast strike for our
eyes. But floating scraps
the morning after gave such joy
to boys still
eager for some war. Better
yet, the albino
red snake down the block with pink eyes
skin was ready to be fed.
This white mouse had eyes
pink as the snake’s, but mammal sight
could not help
it up the glass. All pets are
imposters: the orange
tabby that purrs in your pink lap,
eyes a dis-
tant bird, and pierces your leg.