I think, in the end, we must just fall

under the weight of all

our undigested measures

The brown anole

on the green banana leaf

tugging at its sleeve

drawing the skin into its boat-shaped mouth

sipping it really

like hot coffee and then gulping a second raft of scales

I’ve seen its yellow diamonds shine

for decades now but missed

how slow its first loosed steps are, how vulnerable

it might be to a bird

or a human child

who could lift it easily by the tail

like a kite

Martha Serpas is the author of three collections of poetry: Côte Blanche (New Issues), The Dirty Side of the Storm (W.W. Norton), and 2015’s, The Diener (LSU). Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker, The Nation, Southwest Review, and elsewhere. Active in efforts to restore Louisiana’s wetlands, she co-produced Veins in the Gulf, a documentary about coastal erosion. She teaches at the University of Houston and serves as a hospital trauma chaplain.