harrowed upon the anthills
a sandal collapses upon
the basillica’s ceiling and shards
of dirt once carefully compacted
come spiraling down, while
above us stands a trembling colossus
of flesh, awakening our slumbering
senses, our insatiable craving for the unnameable.
we frolic in the forest of his hair
we wish to build our grave there, so
we burrow in his skull’s crevices
we are the lover whose desire
burns with a fire that dissolves the bond
with which bone and flesh are welded
we march not into but through.
the infinitesimal legions sing
their ballads long into night
as the souls of men and dogs,
frogs and reptiles are snuffed out
like stars concealed in a murky sky.
look at the rib cages of wildebeests
dissolving in the dirt. when
the woodpecker sets himself
to work, does he imagine his hole
will be a void widening forever?
is it a testament to the ants’ fortitude,
or the hunter’s prayer of untempered force?
a baseball cap, a woman’s
bleached blonde hair stand,
toppled monuments amid
the city of clay, amid the savannah’s
scarlet dust. we are in the dusk
of nature’s faltering memory.