For The Love Of An Armadillo

ARMADILLO

There is an

armadillo burrowed

into my chest.

My breasts

have made way

to accommodate

the armadillo.

I am not sure how

the armadillo found

his way into my life.

One day I woke up

and there was the

armadillo filling

up the arroyo

I have become.

Sometimes the

armadillo shells

out a ballad.

I tell myself

not to feel

for the armadillo.

No respectable

woman my age

should feel for

an armadillo.

Each day

the armadillo

digs deeper

and deeper

into the cavity

of what used

to be my heart.