Poem: Under the Gun

 

Under the Gun

 

an occasional ant

upgrades the course of the colony’s chores,

lucky to avoid the pluck of a spider.

 

the ant clutches the podium

riding a dice roll that somehow slips

dismemberment by righteous mandibles.

 

once daft and deviant, malign and rampant,

the previous pariah basks in accolades,

inscribed now as a hero in the pheromone codes.

 

atop its servile scurriers,

and the corpse-husks of hated failures,

the new leader legislates,

 

godly over those who are similar, superior even,

except the babble of time

didn’t call their names.

 

 

 

 

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10/14 mods

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