Poem: Fire Ants

Published recently in a Danse Macabre Anthology titled Morgenblatter~Abendblatter.

Good Night, Don't Let the TV Ads Bite,

Owl

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Fire Ants

see-through ochre
leaky with pores,
a shawl of musky hairs,

they fondle with rods
more sensitive than nerves,
groping in quick lines

and wearing a sheen
of multi-flavored sweat,
a language for a breastplate of nostrils:

chemicals of fury and obedience.
of ravage and xanex.
dopamine and pain.

with chunks of the mauled
in their pliers grip,
their sharklike moustaches,

they run so fast
it would be big cat speed,
immune to god,

tender as a stone.



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