#3
The rainbow rises from the churning bay,
Colors cleaving into sea bass and mullet
Flung down upon the cat man's plate.
Bread, a lemon and a pale rose'
Will soon course down his gullet.
(The monstrous boiled lobster can wait.)
Is it only food that cheers him? Triumphant,
That grin, rapacious and tense,
Could rival the glower of an elephant
For anthropomorphic confidence.
And what of the little girl in her canoe
Waving goodbye, or is it hello?
She doesn't smile. She hasn't a clue
How to ride that storm-born rainbow.