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A cockroach in my
as I pour it from the box.
On a cold winter morning,
it was eating from my bowl.
I was hungry ,
but fascinated by the creature.
I never really took the time to think of these grim critters needing
Although they're usually found in the neighbors cupboards.
So now I must give up my breakfast for a bug?
She was an old
I think a child at heart.
She shined in glory that she won over my bowl.
I thought her as a grandmother,
a loving look on her face,
Though acting as if starved,
as if she hadn't eaten in weeks.
If I had the guts, I'd probably smash it,
take a shoe and squash it,
This is what I've done before.
But something about this cockroach
made me feel sorry for the rest.
Copyright © 1986
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