New Poem

20

the open stomach
of the beast

imaginary landscapes
where the night
loses its darkness
and plants its blood
in the lung
of your
voice

I have seen
the crows
tear the dead
throats
of ants
and the
throats
of each other

but in all
that cruelty
no identity is
found
only violence
only mindless walks
to the beach
to die anew
to drown in the sand
that cuts like
antique glass
to shape the
fingers
of your
hand
with coral
and algae

what if tomorrow
ants settled
in your neck

would you be their
protector
or would you leap
into the ocean
naked
but with ants
crowning your head
embracing your shoulders
or would you leap
into the ocean
with the fury of
angels
or would you leap
into the ocean
free
with the torn throats
of ants
adorning your mouth
like chewed jewels

insect trophies
forever lost
in the shadows
of some humans