Quelle: poetry p f
Clockwork Scorpion
I dreamed I had
a clockwork scorpion
who scuttled slowly
about my limbs
in black shiny armour.
Japanned like
a sideboard,
rock hard
in my hands
but friendly
as a budgie
on my shoulder,
a remotely controlled
conversation piece.
Upturning
this black turtle
I switched
my new pet off
at the belly battery
like a walkie-talkie doll.
But the scorpion
who had gained
in confidence and stealth
chattered and spun
quickly around the room
too fast to track
with the naked eye.
Rally driving
claw clicking
snap-jawed
a set of
false teeth
incising
across carpet.
Then taking
to flight
it launched itself
at my neck
and knocked me
clean off my feet.