Pity the Poor Pangolin

Dearest Pangolin,

You’ve got no skin

To greet sunshine

In the morn.

Your hard shell-scales,

Are like thumb-nails,

Over-lap-ping,

Battle-worn.

How you roll-up,

Like a tea cup,

Or a pumped-up

Ar-ti-choke;

Armour-plated,

Stiff-lip gated,

With your head

Inside your gut.

Noxious-smelling,

Inward-dwelling,

Marking moments,

In a funk.

Will you take leave?

Having “spoken”

With a fragrance

Like a skunk

Go to sleep now,

Little “pinecone.”

Let sweet-visions

Start a-new.

Dream of termites,

Luscious larvae,

Tangy ant-mounds,

Just for you.

VIDEO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbAY8b_-h6I&feature=youtu.be