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Michael Spindler

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Chameleon

We saw it that day
on the road to Taza,
inching out from the verge,
bulbous eyes flicking this way and that,
green body, fat tail, a miniature dinosaur.
On the tarmac a miracle:
the green phased to grey.
We almost lost it,
and then on the other side
against the brown, baked earth
it was a spectre for a moment
before melting away.

So it slips through the visible world,
always part of the background, fully adjusted,
knowing no definition except that fully supplied,
materialising only at the boundaries.
This is no creature, but an Ur-creature,
spawning all the others.
The tiger, the leopard, peacock and parakeet
are only coloured things;
this is colour itself,
its own palette, its own artist.
Green against grass
grey against road
brown against earth
it can be anywhere,
anywhere except water.
Oh, how it must fear water!
Transparency it cannot bear.
Just like humans.

Page(s) 40

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