Bull Shark

Under a bridge, near the river’s mouth,
a wrecking ball passes a forcefield.

Lured to impassive surf, and ease of work,
in spite of sweetness inside the throat
in a sediment milkshake of uncouth turf,
the pioneer feels right at home.

Along the spine, passing by unknown,
a kindred predator, a hybrid dweller
keeps on the land, as dry as bones.

Wired hard to eat a plate, as well as food,
the pioneer smells something new-
Guided by sense to what eyes would refuse,
with serrated shears, the hunter pursues
methane bubbles that nearby brew.

And right on the target, in one clean bite
the pioneer severs the tail of a massive,
amphibious piggie–and its temper, too.

With inexplicable dentition the grass chewer
too, bidenting the fishie, tried something new.


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