Sophia swings from side to side
in a round white hoop on a chain.
Talons pull then propel her ride.
She controls the moon on the wane.
Colorful wings that never fly
spread out and in swinging flight feign.
Back and forth—caged up with no sky,
She swings in her moon on the wane.
Sophia’s kin on pirates ride
and fly to relieve the mundane.
A pirate’s life she’ll not abide—
no night flight through moons on the wane.
We met Sophia at Petco
to my belch, she belched a refrain.
She would not survive if let go.
She’s stuck with her moon on the wane.
She winds that swing up like a towel
her claw hands maneuver its chain.
She cackles and shrieks from her dowel
as she spins that moon on the wane.