Poem: Under the Gun

 

Under the Gun

 

sometimes an ant

upgrades the course of the colony’s chores,

lucky to avoid the pluck of a spider.

 

the lucky ant clutches the podium

riding dice rolls that somehow slip

dismemberment by righteous mandibles.

 

once daft and deviant, malign and rampant,

the previous pariah, that lucky, ant,

basks in accolades, 

inscribed as a hero in the pheromone codes.

and so

 

atop its servile scurriers,

and the corpse-husks of hated failures,

the new leader legislates,

 

godly over the other ants, 

who are similar, even superior,

except the babble of time didn’t call their names.

 

 

 

 

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7/8/25 .. mods... trying to make it actually accessible (gasp)

10/14 mods

plays on, "there is nothing new under the sun"