I hold it close against my chest,
an exotic emerald scarab,
carapaced beetle of afflatus.
A hard face hides my longanimity;
I refuse to cringe from my jailer,
use the crescent moon to filter
noise of other sufferers within these walls
and, when I retrieve the bowl of watery stew
from the ledge below the hatch in my cell door,
I imagine it’s a delicious pasty and yell for more.
Kim M. Russell, 2017
Image found on Pinterest
My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #145