Prompt: write a poem that plays with the idea of a “tall tale.”
The Attack (As It Truly Happened)
You would not believe
what happened that night.
I can scarcely believe
I have lived to tell the tale.
It was not an unusual
summer evening.
There in the Morong valley,
in the shadow of Antipolo City.
It had been a long day
(as you might expect)
I had worked hard and was ready
for a soft place to rest.
Imagine my surprise
when the blanket where I had nestled
was abruptly displaced
immersing my whole body in light and cold.
I tried to remain calm.
At first.
But it soon became clear
that this haven was not safe!
I leapt from my place
as quickly as my small body would
and found myself falling
down, down, down…
Never before had I realized
that this body of squish and bones
contained a frame of wings
suitable for short-lived flight.
Credit is owed, perhaps, to adrenaline
that the instinct of ancient physiology
took over, carrying me to the darkness
of some distant, uncharted cave.
The monster whose apparent bed
had been my habitation
made frantic, fearful pursuit
but did not find my hiding place.
And that, my little nymphs,
is how your father survived
the greatest, most terrible threat
to any cockroach that’s ever lived.