ants have been frantic
gnawing on wet shirt sleeves
you can hardly see these scented lines
they follow, an invisible trace
they disappear on earth tone paisley sheets
silently defying gravity on tumbleweed walls
second-storey floors are no feat
when flood water drowns the moist ground
the heat fishes them out in a frenzy
of finding moisture, almost reaching the sky
one or two wards off the path in missionary search
for sugar maybe, and a congo line builds after
lying in bed, once or twice, you feel the distinctive sting
on the soft folds of your arm, scratching off the itch
only to be reddened in blistered annoyance
for something so small to cause this much sensory commotion
Sept. 08, 2013
3:09 PM
No comments:
Post a Comment