Monday, June 27, 2022

Ants

CLICK HERE TO HEAR AUTHOR READ


I flick them off a forearm

or a thigh, squish them

under heel or thumb

the black ones 

small and large alike

one time saw a critter

crawling across

white kitchen tile

vigorous and struggling

under the broken body weight

of his dried up comrade

and felt nearly awestruck

by his valiant efforts

to carry his brother

to safety

as I crushed them both

under my toes;

the traps in the corner

are insufficient

and the man fixing

my front porch shows me

how over years

the destructive devils

have chewed through

the thick joists 

supporting the deck

reduced them to sawdust

it’s an unwinnable war

he says smiling -

carpentry is his sideline

most days he plays 

double bass for the 

city philharmonic and 

on weekends 

directs a church choir

I don't know where

he finds time for woodwork

but he needs 

the extra cash

and it 'keeps me sane' he says

in steady measured tones

between buzzsaw screams

(he wears ear protection

goggles and gloves)

I holler at him 

aren't you worried

about severing a finger

it could happen

in a split second

of inattention 

the mind does tend to wander

life is filled with risks

he answers offhandedly

and I say to myself

he's right

he’s a good guy

I think

I'll let him live.

7 comments:

  1. I love the random and brutal violence in this poem, which works both ways, man to ant and ant to man ... which species really has the upper hand? ... we are so much more powerful and so much smarter than our insect rivals, but they are so inscrutable and unstoppable, kill one and there's a million more to replace the one you've killed! And the final "punch line" ... where the narrator nearly falls into the trap of briefly regarding his human counterpart as if he was an ant (and all the connotations that arouses, from Kafka to the Holocaust!) ... but stops himself just in time! Nice ending!

    In this companion poem, which I wrote many years ago, and is admittedly somewhat overly forced into a rigid meter and rhyme scheme, I, like you, try to evoke the random and brutal violence that we see in Nature ... this time revolving around the horrifying idea that, in the Natural world, mothers often eat their babies. Should I say ... enjoy?


    Rude Awakening!

    There’s a frightening number
    Of species
    That eat their own babies.
    And how do these babies
    React to their mothers?

    Sustainer to rival
    In a breath.
    Fight or flight? life or death?
    Terrified, bled of strength,
    Compulsed to survival.

    Dreadful revelation!
    Monstrous crude!
    Surprised, attacked, subdued.
    Transformed into a food.
    Utterly forsaken.

    Stab of astonishment!
    The newborn -
    Warmed then burned, loved then spurned,
    Devoured without concern.
    And no acknowledgement.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Some neat rhymes. But this poem has me wondering if it would be, I'll say, less claustrophobic, (although that may be part of the the meaning) if it were in a different form, one that let's it breathe (pun?). And some of the end-rhymes were transformed to inner rhymes, feels like you've got pieces here, I'm playing :

    There’s a frightening number of species
    Eat their babies and how should these babies
    Respond to their mothers?

    Sustained turned sustenance in a breath,
    Or rival, will it be fight or flight? Life or death?
    Survival the primal lesson

    The newborn loved then spurned,
    Devoured without concern
    Or acknowledgement of a transgression

    Birthed and then attacked, subdued
    Transformed to food
    This dreadful revelation so monstrously crude!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Yes! I like the improvements! The end result is that there is less distraction from the rigid form and more opportunity to convey the underlying message of the poem. I think I read somewhere that one of the biggest challenges for young poets is too much "poetic presence" (bringing too much attention to the artifice, which of necessity detracts from the art).

    ReplyDelete
  5. I wrote this one a few years back with seems to have the spirit of your poem, the brutality of Nature, tinged with a little ironic humour:

    PIGEON

    A pigeon is dying in my backyard
    Watching it is very hard
    Her wings are broken, feathers torn
    I've never seen one so forlorn
    And in my heart the helplessness
    Feels too close I must confess
    I want to scream, It's undeserved
    For a creature harmless and reserved
    To suffer this predicament
    Is unjustified I lament
    If there’s a God possessing mercy
    He’d relieve her of her misery
    And then as if my prayer is heard
    A cat arrives and devours the bird.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I love the ending! You pray and your prayer is answered! Deux ex machina. Also reminds me of Chad Gadya! I've been reading "The Collected Poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay". She has a line which resonates with all of these "brutality of Nature" poems ... it goes: "In the shadow of the hawk we feather our nests." I can't get that line out of my head. Hitler. Stalin. Now Putin. All these hawks which prevent us from feathering our nests.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Now I can’t get that line out of my head

      Delete