How about dropping into pools, plop
at night swim eat flies or strive then bask
belly tan and cream heaving solid black
eye beading at the sky toothless mouth open.
Palm trees trunks so thin fronds hang
from nothing green black silhouette
bursts of rustling grassy flutter
underlining stillness dusty footsteps
How about the tail flicking where it dropped
tiny eggs in corners, babies if that's the word
hiding behind a painting whose orange sky
reflects burnt earth before thatch huts
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