A strange chameleon
sits on my desk
staring at me
with its giant eye,
its transparent skin
camouflaged against the clutter,
against any terrain.
It sits, waiting
for something to come along
and then the rigid reptile
does nothing.
Doesn’t blink.
Doesn’t budge.
I have to pull its sticky tongue
to get it to unfurl.
I snap the end
across its small sharp teeth
and fix it
to our prey.
It’s a strange chameleon
that sits and stares
and never eats
and doesn’t care.


© Elizabeth Steinglass, all rights reserved, 2015

13 replies
    • Liz Steinglass
      Liz Steinglass says:

      Thanks, Rosi. I like that part too. I got a little stuck there and thought can the tape be a chameleon if it doesn’t move? and then I just went with it.

  1. Heidi Mordhorst
    Heidi Mordhorst says:

    Michelle is so right! These poems are like a little homage to VW and the small poems! This one really made me see the tape in a new way–a bit of a stretch, but an apt and exciting one!


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