Rebellion and Murder

Rebellion and Murder

It's hot and it's Saturday afternoon.
The garden is the garden still.
I just came back from watching the ants
make a nest out of parts
of our shed.

I can't say how long I watched.
An hour at least.

They made their nest and it made me think
about chaos, about death
and life and birth and revolution.

I let the ants climb over my feet
and over my hands and arms and
then finally over my face and
into my
mouth.

I tasted their movements gravely
and felt suddenly old and tired.
Then drastically, I poured my coffee cup into
their nest
and watched them sail away
and watched them drown.