To The Lizard On My Tree

Tell me truly, satan-skin
ogling my declining tree
what have you come to pluck this time?
what else is there to snatch from me?

I used to love your furtive moves
the sassy flicking of your tongue;
watched senseless as you stripped my tree
and fouled my fruit
(ah, we were young).

Yet even now, you never fail
to stalk my shriveled property
cold-blooded croaker haul your tail
there's nothing more to suck
from me.