It is late and I am going to bed. There is a scratching sound then it stops. Could it be a bug or a mouse trying to get out of this basket? I shake the basket. No sound. The sound comes again. I look around and there it is. A gecko is half in and half out of my writing book. It has clawed its way out of the pages of paper. Bright green with little eyes, tail and hind legs still in the book. I carry the book outside and free it like a poem into the night air.
A poem with legs! I like that image.
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I like the thought of freeing the gecko like freeing a poem.
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And still… when released, as poem it speaks of its freedom.
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