Sloth

I think I am one of life’s watchers A sloth, slung between two trees Looking up at the moon My two eyes fill with moon I think the moon fell into me and drowned I think I could be the moon I am a human hammock. Toe-hold on English, finger-grip on Scots My words drift down like leaves I am disconnected from the scrabbling Creatures below, their drive, their naked ambition Caught in the whirling maelstrom of making their mark One night I’ll become the moisture Wetting the clouds of a day Someone will have to dispose Of my fur and eyes, Tipping the moon back out for the grass to drink