The Varmint
I spied a creature in the garden,
Its ugly legs and furry body
Not fooling anyone; its soundless
Maneuvers and cunning eyes
Giving me total recall
Of so many cowards.
After an unsettling night of rest,
I found myself in the garden,
Inspecting the damage the varmint
Had done: the imprints and droppings,
Stolen leaves and cigarette butts.
The son-of-a-bitch even etched
The emoticon semicolon pee
Right in the dirt!
For nights I scoured the web,
Matching footprints and scents
That plagued so many others,
Narrowing it down to a few
Who could be so clever,
Who could sneak into the house
And take sips of hummingbird nectar
Stored in the refrigerator door;
Help himself to a bottle of Bud.
What a scarecrow he would make
Once bagged and properly dressed;
What a lesson he could teach
His pathetic relations when impaled
So prominently between the lettuce
And purple phlox, the snide smile
Remaining on his face.
two thousand nine
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
