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Anolis Inconsequentis
Woke one day, vision stretched;
barren skin, growing nails.
Bed had turned to pebbles, dirt,
with me beneath so cool, compact.
Thought to reach for glass to drink,
but claws could only grope the sand.
Grains to grip but thumbs have gone
and I can't seem to mourn their loss.
Seen the sun that floods the holes
where doors had stood the nights before,
stirring me, unburied there
and on four legs to skitter, scat.
Mouth gone dry - it tastes of flies,
but better to be filled with wing;
transparent as they flick and buzz,
pulled aloft by pinkened tongue.
Emerging from my hollow point,
loosen all my joints and bone,
and scamper at the waving trees;
they've turned to grass and sway by breeze.
The world engulfs me, consequence
of being small on land made large.
Greening at my outer edge,
yellowed on my belly bottom.
Sweeping carpets made of dust
to hunt for lesser; dodging more
and greater things on feathered tips
that dip from up above to catch.
My faculties are slow to leave,
instincts shake from dormancy.
I've witnessed first of setting sky
with eyes on the side of my skull.
My sense of scale diminished me
and left before I'm ruined, then.
Tomorrow I will know my prey,
or I may be prey to others.
