This
is a blues poem set in Arizona. The blues poets often “borrow lines”
from other famous poets in this genre. I borrowed a verse from Robert Johnson’s
famous poem “Hellhound on my Trail.”
by Susan Fox
A tarantula dueled to the death on our garage floor.
We kindly removed his carcass next day.
His scrappy adversary would have met the
same fate.
But the scorpion woke up and ran away.
Gotta
keep movin’
Gotta
keep movin’
Hell
hound on my trail*
Wolf spider hunted the same ground.
Someone came around.
Thought he was safe crawling under the
car
“Back up!” I shouted. Scrunch.
What a sound!
Gotta
keep movin’
Gotta
keep movin’
Hell
hound on my tail
His
ladylove had more brains.
The
moon illumined her get away.
She
madly scampered over the rough red clay,
chased
by a madman swinging a broom.
Gotta
move
Gotta
move
Hell
hound sniffing my trail
Lacey
red brown lady, frightened, circled my tub.
“Darling,
I can’t get you out alive
without
risking harm to myself.”
A
whistle for the brute with the knife; scorpion joined the dead club.
Gotta
move
Gotta
move
Hell
hound finding my trail
The
boy stared into the mirror
A
red brown lady on his shoulder stared back.
His
sub-processors formed the response before the thought hit the main frame.
He
smashed the scorpion with his bare fingers, flung it to its tomb.*
Post-Mortem: Body squashed, tail intact on opposite sides of the room.
Gotta
keep movin’
Gotta
keep movin’
Hell
hound took my tail
An
injured spider limped across the floor,
his
love for living passionate and pure.
Do
you realize the terror he suffers before the final blow?
He
lives in a world peopled by ugly giants with deadly brooms.
Their tiniest finger is a killing machine.
Her
merest whistle signals his doom.
Gotta move
Gotta
move
Hell
hound found my trail
 |
| Our back yard view in the Sonoran Desert in Gold Canyon, Arizona 2002-2012 |
*This verse is from Robert Johnson’s famous poem “Hellhound on my Trail.”
*Yes, my 14-year-old son crushed a scorpion --that he found sitting on his shoulder -- with his bare fingers.
*Yes, my 14-year-old son crushed a scorpion --that he found sitting on his shoulder -- with his bare fingers.
Enjoyed reading this poem, with some anxiety, very brave young man crushing scorpion with bare hands.Don't kill Spiders.
ReplyDelete