My lizards’ love

is not that wary

even scaly, is soft and airy.

 

Their way of love

is so darned old

just chase, grab ahold

and take control.

 

Atop faux green leaves

snouts almost touching

vibrant lime faces

eyes casually, lackadaisically looking

wondering what the hell I’m doing.

 

The crazy way they bob

up and down, dewlap a-throb

bursting red to clearly show

they’re ready for romance, and go!

 

Situations, I’ve seen many

on vines, entwined, still and staring

once upside down, a feat for any

reptile species, should they tarry.

 

Love ends and begins yet again

they’ll even choose another man

or two, with dewlaps circling round

for females they are eying now.

 

But in the end, love makes a thing

a tiny orb, a few she’ll bring

these fragile babies, hard to keep

I’ll love this next one,

from a crack should it peep.

 

– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022