A Wrong Turn

Poetry is the bravery of novelists unveiled.
The monarch outweighed
the panther.
The smell of moss
the pressure of humidity
and heat.
The sun’s rays
glare back
at my retinas
through the trees.
A macaw screams at me.
Incriminated
by a bird.
The bite of salt on my tongue
the taste of fatigue.
George,
are you sure this is Moscow?
It’s chilly here.
George,
you have a lovely watch,
what is the hour?
Oh snap,
my stomach growled.
The monarch might see
me
as a challenger.
Bashana Haba’ah.
The joyous moon of dreams
The panther comes near
eyes glinting
pounces
and kisses my nose.
I shall flap my arms
and soar to the canopy
where Moscow might be visible.
Cassie, she is clever.
She crafted this piece of genius
that you
are devouring.
When we arrive
we will eat fruit
and it will be sweet
like disgusting honey.
I will go
and blaze my way
across this floor
to that one
and stamp my feet!
I do not fear you!
You can not stop me!
Je t’aime, dear panther!
Te amo tambien,
he answers.
The trees stand tall
in the mist of the Amazon.