faintly annoying chirping
of mate-calling cricket
was leaving slender wrinkles
on the silent livery
of star-shredded night
thinner than laidback air
the fabric
was a stretch mat with echo-nip
for hungry tear-makers
with undulating swings of wings
serrated edges of claws
and an incurable lust
for drinking diluted blood
straight from the veins
of volatile wind
weakened by
anti-emancipative pressure’s movements
he laid on the grass
writhing in pain
amid trickled down memories
of the last cats-&-dogs falling foray
the hearing boundaries
cut like an ice hole
and refrains of the serenade
were inhaling space
and became an easy catch
for ears
of a busy with scanning foliage bat
to be or not to be
is a trivial question
when you underpin
the food-chain pyramid
and wrinkle hopefully the stillness
attracting a moment of intimacy
or shortening the swan song
of yet another fiddler on the grass

15 January 2009