Saturday, August 17, 2013

A DEAD MOUSE REPOSES IN BEAUTY

               —for Michael Ellis

I tossed a dead mouse into the trash.
A found mouse this time, 
no mousetrap, but poisoned, I'm sure. 
A case of arsenic and old beads. 
Thousands of miniscule meat-ants 
clustered in its fur like jet-black beads, 
redolent of Victorian era purses. 
Group mind logic at work: 
the ants were quilted into its fur,
dozens to each cluster, 
shining with faceted light.
The mouse was bejeweled in death, 
until I moved it—an explosion 
of raging ants, a black tide 
embroidering my hand.


8/17/13



Michael Ellis says they're Argentinian ants, part of a 560-mile long colony that stretches from San Diego to San Francisco "bringing me diamonds like candy...." Will the arsenic kill them?

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