Praying Mantis on a Chain-Link Fence

Rain that rattled through this park an hour agomust have knocked her out of ambush in the trees.

    Or was it this wind that buffets branches    too wet to grip even with six strong hands?

Programmed to disappear by standing still,she’s unaware that, on this silver grid,

    no bugs will scuttle by for her to grab, long-    limbed and quick as an NBA center; no male

will come to mate, then stay for dinner (hers)—unaware she stands out like a green-bean

    mustache on a snowman; like me when Nicky    Monszuk, the school bully, died in a car wreck,

and everyone in sixth grade cried but me—unaware that any passing bird can see a meal—

    that, if I didn’t pluck her up and place her    on a tree that she can climb and vanish

in the leaves, few boys could quell the needto straighten out those praying arms,

    and pluck from her thin neck and well-fed body    that merciless triangular green head.