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The Predator


In my cane chair
gazing at the ceiling of
the curved beige verandah,
the black light
embedded in masonry
long even slats surround
casting star-like beams across.

Deep black shadow
running down its spine
dull brown twine
fat lizard
gorged on the glut of post-monsoon insects.

Black beady eyes
flicker-ticker, prance
carnivorous predator
in hypnotic trance.

A moth
innocently clings
folded wings
danger lurks beside;
precise gentle meticulous
despite its size and satiated belly
slithers, wriggles its sinews,
toward a deceptively easy prey.

But the monsoon glut
the hunter's instinct blunts;
a false move, a quivering
flurry of wings and
the lizard retreats in resigned
defeat,
then slips away to devour
more accessible less exciting
maggots effete.

Undeserving,
poor prowess,
lost the fight,
disappointed,
I switch off the light.