“Smuggler hides iguanas in wooden leg”

I would have got away with it
but for the noise –
claws scratching at the wood
those gentle, coughing sounds
iguanas make.

“One moment, sir!”
I knew that I was done for.
” If you could come this way…”

In my skivvies, standing on one leg,
I watched him spring the secret trapdoor-
out the tumbled, all my little darlings,
skittering across the polished floor.
Tiny dinosaurs in Terminal Two.

It’s said they escaped into the drains
and flourished there.

One day they will return, Godzilla like,
crunching jets to junk
between their claws, reeking of jet juice
and a thousand airline meals






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