He is the ant and I’m the parasitic
cow mite, domesticated by ants.
Only dry on milk they clip off my head.
Born again this happens over and over.
Now they drag my body to the trash pile.
Here is the room full of wasp wings.
The library of grasshopper’s eyes.
An old ant dreaming of sky. Another
craving a burger. My bodies are piled
like hay stacks next to the furnace.
The exit is right over there but here I go again.
Photo by Big Grey Mar on Flickr
