Lizard Court

Someone knows where they go
At night when it gets cold,
Months when it’s always cold.

Humans proliferate
Specialized expertise
Like quilled creatures sport quills—

Some herpetologists
Specialize in lizards
And know just where they go.

In desert spring, they show
Back in the sun again,
Like magic, the lizards,

Strutting weak-limbed push-ups
And flashing turquoise streaks,
Wandering up the walls

Of the little courtyards
Where they court and hold court,
Territorial beasts.

This spring, one’s got a strange,
All-white skullcap, snowy
Blank head. Surely some bird

Will take a stab at that
And not, mistakenly,
The detachable tail.

For now, the white head holds
Center stage on cement
And is the last to scare,

The last to disappear
Once the sun goes down, but
Will he be here next year?