Poem: Rogue Ants

 

Rogue Ants

 

the rogue ants cry daily

over the excavated ribs of this aching planet,

 yet no flowers come.

 

they scream in packed streets amid obvious evil,

 but no antenna turns a head.

 

they watch smiles freeze-dried smiles 

swallow their pleas into cold throats

as stainless as upscale refrigerators.

 

they rage against the blood money of empire,

whiel the streets ignore, ignore, ignore,

 or laugh and hurl scorn

 

or ignore, ignore, ignore …

the rogues call them smug pharisees,

posh swine who soil pearls,

or lemmings extraordinare.

 

but it steers not the marching scuttle,

does nothing to impede the hive,

the rapine.  the extort.  the war.

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