Irate Caterpillar - Hugh Cornwell

The other night I chanced upon an irate caterpillar

He was irate he had a darting face

Crinkled with old forms

Appendage arms spread out fanlike glancing

His string noise boxes

The rest were a howling wolf

Afraid to be left upright against sleeping forte

Calling to the caterpillar

Throughout the time span

Wanting to be fed wanting attention

Wanting waiting full of tension

They don’t crowd the spiderlike object

They didn’t object at least not many

Just waiting for the next creak

From his aching limbs to reach their brains through

Cup-like objects stuck on the sides of their heads

No-one joked no-one spoke

They became embarrassed and planted contempt

Under their haunches

When the caterpillar rested

His appendages ummed

His appendages arred

But not connecting with

The string noise boxes

And…

They… all just gazed

The other night I chanced upon an irate caterpillar (repeat)