—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,
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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