To the Lizard on My Tree

Tell me truly, Satan skin
ogling my decrepit tree
what have you come to do this time?
what else is left to snatch from me?

I used to love your furtive moves
the feisty flicking of your tongue;
watched senseless as you stripped my tree
and fouled my fruit (aah,
we were young!)

And even now you never fail
to eye my withering property
cold-blooded creature haul your tail
what else is left to pluck
from me?