by Carolyn Creed
You've hippety-hopped in
and you've had your way,
made off with baby corncobs--
Critter, I would welcome you
to munch out on crabgrass,
but this snack can't be had.
I will pepper the borders,
let loose the lean housecats,
watch like the wheel-above hawk,
till I know my cornrows are mine.
You may still visit, to stare in
past the gate, at goodies out
of your reach. Don't bound
across, or you'll make me plant
nasturtiums to witch-curse you
| away | away | |
| away | away. |