Geckos in Obscure Light
Tentative, greedy, by night they came,
drawn to the insects drawn to the light.
Their shadow organs pulsed
beneath bellies distended as Falstaff's,
backs a tarnished armor studded
by the rosettes of some obscure disease.
What of their victims, the cannon fodder,
Welsh soldiery thrown each night
against the muzzle flare? Ragged, high-strung moths,
green lacewings streamlined like F-16só
the geckos, those great officers and kings,
took them into their mouths, more or less
at leisure, with a gratifying snap.
Silently, of course, through the pane of glass,
where death comes on a smaller scale.
Copyright © 2012 by William Logan
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission