“My Pen,” New Era, Aug. 1985, 27
My Pen
He flashes his tongue.
I stare at him.
His hypnotic gaze is watchful,
Hungrily awaiting my first move.
I seize the back of his head.
The smooth black scales are cool to my touch.
He twists and turns, but to no avail;
Until he silently acknowledges, I am the master.
Photo by Karen Rookhuyzen
Photo by Stacy Holiday