pm poetry

It emits a virulent green.
Masquerading eyes
adorn each wing.
Caked in crater dust, it bumps
our windowpane
and leaves behind a
powdered stain
like the pillowed pad
of a makeup puff.

It migrated from a satellite
that loops
a spitting star
to rap upon
our sliding doors
and gawk at alien forms.

Bipedal mammals
with bulbous skulls
and epidermis folds
drum back
against the glass.

We grunt our welcomes
and stretch
extremities towards
our gauzy guests.

They’ll soon flutter
from Earth’s orbit,
unnerved yet entranced
by the gooey gaze
and baroque frame
of the Homosapien.