The night the lizard cam
our indolence was great;
we went to bed before
our eyes were heavy, limbs
prepared to stretch or love.
Immobile, tense and grey,
he taught us patience as
he waited for the dark.
From time to time we could
not help but glance at him
and learn again that he
was more alive than us
in silent energy,
though his aim was only
the death of cockroaches.
When we awoke the next
morning we found as we
expected that the job
was done, clean and complete,
and the stout lizard gone.
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