The glow so intense we can’t see their features,
like tawny frogmouths mimicking light-torn branches,
splinters smoothed into feathers…
stick insect levering silhouette into blueness,
leaf hopper a succulent green where colour is scarce,
frisson of clarity, buzz of sameness…
Does the praying mantis on brickwork stalk a wasp’s nest
to confuse artistry of camouflage and disguises?
Does a contemplative demeanour temper its knifework?
The disguised march through our nightmares—
out of darkness, lost to swarms of locusts
slingshot over crops against earth’s orbit.
If considered carefully, or peripherally—
like seeing another galaxy through a reflector telescope—
some of the covered glow all the brighter.
The intentions of the one among many
ring out and announce bark more than bark,
branch more than branch, leaf more than leaf.
Veiled is no disguise, even if some can’t see eyes
looking out. But the disguised want to go back
to something else: want to lead double lives
and pick the crops clean without owning up.