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A Poem About Armadillos

May 10, 2012 - Author: newscoma - Comments are closed

Other reasons I am not a poet.

My mouth brings you disease and fury as my whole life has moved me north. I have no road map. I know not where I go and yet I keep moving. I do not have Google maps as I am an armadillo and I have no computer. I have no GPS. I have no driver that guides me. I have leprosy and I need compassion to my plight of flight.

I am an armadillo.

You think I am roadkill, yet my life is not this simple. I just want to move. I want to roam. My enemy is tire and asphalt and deception.

And yet you think I am nothing, but I deceive you. My mouth is anger and I am armored. I am watching you as you don’t watch me. We are legion. We are watching you from the bushes and the fields and the streams and the roads.

We are here in the land of Elvis and Dolly and where Johnny Cash called his home. We are here.

My mouth is full of rage.

And we bring you nothing because you give us nothing back. My mouth is filled with danger.

Do not make a chip and dip cup out of my body, because I will live forever. I will remember. If you eat salsa out of my skeleton and my back, I will send my children and their children and their children to remind you.

I am learning, as are you. And I will roam, hide and watch.

I am more than you think I am.

Armadillo poetry is not a hot seller.

Categories: Tennessee - Tag: , , , ,

Discussion (2 Comments)

  1. I think you’ve broken new ground here.

  2. Hi Newscoma,
    Cool Post, i need write a 200 word paragraph on what this poem is about…HELP!!!
    COME INTO ANIMAL PRESENCE

    Come into animal presence
    No man is so guileless as
    the serpent. The lonely white
    rabbit on the roof is a star
    twitching its ears at the rain.
    The llama intricately
    folding its hind legs to be seated
    not disdains but mildly
    disregards human approval.
    What joy when the insouciant
    armadillo glances at us and doesn’t
    quicken his trotting
    across the track into the palm brush.

    What is this joy? That no animal
    falters, but knows what it must do?
    That the snake has no blemish,
    that the rabbit inspects his strange surroundings
    in white star-silence? The llama
    rests in dignity, the armadillo
    has some intention to pursue in the palm-forest.
    Those who were sacred have remained so,
    holiness does not dissolve, it is a presence
    of bronze, only the sight that saw it
    faltered and turned from it.
    An old joy returns in holy presence.
    BTW great blogpost
    I Need A Girlfriend