The AntMax Winter
The ant is standing approximately two inches away from a pastry crumb dropped at 10:32 this morning. The ant lifts its head up briefly, swivels it around, and then heads to its left, towards a pebble equidistant with the crumb. The ant crawls on top of the pebble, then crawls over it, then walks around it one and ½ times, then walks past it, towards a clump of grass, isolated in this new yard. Three blades, rising at different tilts towards light, but all young. The ant spends some time in the grass, a long time, for an ant. Two minutes, three seconds. It then begins to emerge from between the blades, head still, antennae moving slightly. It is looking directly, we think, at the pastry crumb. Interestingly, by the time the ant remembers its original destination, that destination point has shifted inexorably. The air is heavy and dark. A drop begins to fall towards the earth.
Max Winter Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2021, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|