Linda Imbler is the author of five paperback poetry collections and three e-book collections (Soma Publishing.) This writer lives in Wichita, Kansas with her husband, Mike the Luthier, several quite intelligent saltwater fish, and an ever-growing family of gorgeous guitars. Learn more at: lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com
Protective Coloration
Protective coloration,
prescribed illusions, cheating changeovers.
For predators with a hungry form,
maybe an arctic fox
with his attacking design
built around his foxy affiliation
with ice and snow.
Or, perhaps prey,
a glass octopus, transparent,
hiding from whales or sea birds.
Delicate winged butterflies,
up against a tree bark,
playing hide-and-seek with frogs and lizards.
Even those with a penchant for glamour,
spiders and peacocks, vivid, kaleidoscopic.
When all are done integrating,
what remains is a safe and happy life.
Humanity,
polychromatic sculptures
with an external, laid wrap of skin.
Humanity, a distorted spoil
by those who speak sin,
descended from some primitive wrong.
We, without the constant lock
of all the light that
potentially shines from inside us,
using our colorations
to hide that glow.
For now, humanity,
misused figures only forged
in the image of the bound.
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