Ant

More rust than red,
the ant probed
from the cave of my sock
to the pink slope of my calf,
steep and barren — three links
of a ball chain, six legs of hunger.

Yesterday, I became alpine.
And with an icy gust,
I flicked it away. Yesterday,
I climbed a mountain.
And looking out upon the green
middens below, cleaved
and wandered, I realized:

I do not belong.
Not here, not here.

Image: Nica Lorber on Unsplash

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