Wayne F. Burke: “Ants”

9260118705_91a171d0dc_3k
.
Ants
.
no one to play with or
talk to, nothing
I know to do, a hot summer afternoon
I wandered into the Larson’s yard next door
sat on their walkway and
watched ants come up out the
cracks and ant hills
a flood of them spreading
across the plain of the
walk, and then
other ants, with wings
flew down from the blue sky
in squadrons,
a blitzkrieg attack–
a mighty struggle began,
ferocious as Hastings or
Waterloo–
the Queen of the wingless crew
rolled over her winged-foe
like a tank
the dead and dismembered piled
as the battle raged and
the afternoon slid into shadow:
I did not hear
my grandmother
the first time she called
me
in to supper.
.
.
About the Author: Wayne F. Burke‘s poetry has been widely published online and in print. He is the author of six full-length poetry collections–most recently DIFLUCAN (BareBack Press, 2019). He lives in Vermont (USA)
.
.
Image Credit: Image from “Histoire naturelle des fourmis, et recueil de mémoires et d’observations sur les abeilles, les araignées, les faucheurs, et autres insectes” Courtesy of the Biodiversity Heritage Library