Night Raptor

In the courtyard of the poem
There sits, of course, the poet.
Any poem, any poet.

You may think of the courtyard
As a space with a poet
Present in it. You’re not wrong.

You may consider the poem
As a courtyard you’ve entered,
And now you’re in it. Not wrong.

But haven’t you noticed us,
All the small lizards scuttling
Around you and that poet?

Have you noticed we’re hunting?
We’re your allies. We reduce
Cockroaches and biting flies.

In dark hours, after poets
And readers have left our court,
Who will be ally for us,

To hide us from the hunger
Of that shadow between us
Who are dragons and starred skies?