Uprising
By Jonathan_Dalton
Tue, 30 Jul 2013
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2 comments
For a moment, the air is thick with ants,
punctuating the day like currents in a bun.
Agents of mild panic, occasional spasms. Then I blink,
and were they a hallucination?
No: they've just somehow synchronised their landings, like a falling wave,
and now they're crawling across the bridge and suddenly this page,
under people's steps, through the cracks,
then up again in a breath,
silvery-winged, fat black smudges,
a breeze of insects,
am I only the one seeing this?
On my trousers, my arm,
look closer, anywhere -
not my ear too?
There are more ants than people on this bridge,
which they've taken over,
and I pay tribute to our new masters here.
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Comments
Sounds like a flying ant
Sounds like a flying ant day. Good poem - it does seem rather like a hallucination.
Bee.
Bee
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