— In Memory of LMG

This rapt, bandit-eyed mother,
scorpion-diner and foe to cobras,
is not a marauder, but rather
the obverse: upright and slightly simian
on her miniature mongoose legs.

Love is like the sole lookout,
the one who reconnoiters the desert
to keep her clan unharmed. Dear totem,
she telegraphs her cry across the wasteland
if any slinking or winged thing nears,

although her clamant alarm
gives her away. Love’s swift and costly here,
and she, banisher of loneliness,
leans in close — dainty nose grazing ear —
to groom another’s fur just so.