Imagine a world full of pestering, persistent bugs.
Those ants are hard-working, and decent, and even good.
Imagine ants devouring a human heart; still beating
If you want to know about loneliness, ask a dog
(there’s too many strays around)
The little girl remembered Rhodes
Butterfly Valley adorned her mind with wild things
Shyness couldn’t stop it, nor fear;
She was primitive, barbaric, boundless—
So much peace inside such a little girl
Was she dead? Had she gone to Heaven?
Her hands would smile and she’d look up at her
she’d kiss him and trust him with rollercoasters and dreams
Words would make her skin itch but she never said a word
After all, she was to blame
And the bruises, the fear, the love.
Mademoiselle had never met a scorpion
Spiders yes, and mosquitoes and bumblebees (many of them)
And out of fear,
She took tiny bites of her food.