heteromirafa sidamoensis
Reminds me of a poet I knew, the lye-ben lark.
That’s how I said her name at first, with lye-ben lark
to rhyme with why-ben, ‘By the way, it’s Libben Lark,’
she told me at the door, ‘it rhymes with ribbon-lark.’
I’d taught her for an hour. I liked the liben lark.
‘You libben-learn…’ I murmured as the liben lark
went reading down the corridor. The liben lark
was like no poet I’d ever met, the liben lark
just made a sound there hadn’t been, the liben lark
had no idea. I told her, ‘Listen, Liben Lark,
you make a sound there’s never been.’ The liben lark
looked sad at that. ‘Two years I’ve taught you, Liben Lark,
and now we’re done.’ A pamphlet by the Liben Lark
was out by autumn, ‘Dieback’ by the Liben Lark
won the Ginkgo, Corpselight by the Liben Lark
was shortlisted for everything. The Liben Lark
said she’d sign my copy. She wrote lyben larq
in green below her name there printed LIBEN LARK
which then she struck a line through like this LIBEN LARK
I said ‘We going for drinks at all?’ to Liben Lark
who asked politely ‘what’s the name…?’ – oh Liben Lark
