Unabashed

that entirely unholy scuttling
down the basement of East Pyne
of eighty legs and God knows
how many thoraxes..thoraces?
[had I only listened more closely
in the grasshopper lab--
thank you, Cavanaugh]
shiftlessly dusting over
the linoleum, a health code violation
if I ever saw one
fishhooked the glance
and the neighbor's, our
peaceable kingdom of three
and two phylums, yet
this wasn't about to deteriorate
to another Wood Street
so with mouth utterly devoid of Blooming
and true musculature, and boots
scuttling got vanquished
a lone antenna masting there
for a redacted Kingdom's
halfgeneral disdain- what else
but a solo-cup scooper, a Switzerland
a gentle folder of paper for
disembarkation at windows?