I dreamed it was a baby
just shriveled from the womb,
eyes filmy, a baby
whose bird-like bones stretched
just beyond the crossbeam
and no further,
a baby who forgot to scream
at the hammer’s thud,
thought the sharp nail a nipple,
sucked the world in.

		Allenwood, PA

Evenings, they rent
out. Wedding reception
guests winding in 
and out between glass cages
that reflect back
delight in fearing
its trapped
spectators.

A martini with the Black Mambas,
hors d’oeuvres with the Indian Pythons,
chicken with the unfried 
two-toned arrow-poison frogs
and their nervously twitching legs.

At 10:00, the  bride rides the Aldabra Tortoise,
her long gown wound around her elbow
or flung wildly down, zig-zagging its trail
in dirt transplanted
from some Pennsylvania farm
where optimistic rodents dream					
of gulping pit vipers
whole.

It is slow going.

Metamorphosis is the vow of the hour,
hanging in the ever-changing air
like an overdone toast
mixed with Twisted Sister.	
				
No French-kissing here
in full view of forked tongues
but there’s a tense attempt
when the couples’ lip rings clink
at each rattle of the wine glass.

It is all the Common Iguana can do
to not smirk when the tattooed groom 
tries to smile, line-dancing his way 
along Amphibians’ Lane.
									
Soon everyone sips and hisses;
the quietest drunks leave
their skins behind.

Later, the DJ howls outside 
the crocodile pit where four-star acoustics
uncoil the sound
to the local penitentiary
and inmates bet
on accidental deaths.

Here, what is in will out
in a cup not tipped up 
for drinking, or clip-clip 
on a dish or slide your insides 
spread like jelly. It’s a jam
we’re in when the lights don’t dim 
and we’ve stripped with our lips tight
and our limbs wide 
enough to see what’s still in 
somewhat the same position, 
though, if age has her say,
won’t be long. Of course,
there’s the choice to hold
on tight to the site 
where the growth grips
its death-hold wholly
and blooms like a kiss
pricked with poison—or maybe
the striptease is really free 
of crossbones and, yes,
it’s a baby.