Ants

Another episode of something

echos through the space.

A place you made.

The garden through the glass divide

is painfully alive. On this side

you set down poison for ants.

Your choices are an ache that has

been there for so long,

you would only know it if it left.

Would you miss it then?

Or would it be another thing

you left behind?

Another day, another day, another day.

The ants keep coming.

I fear they always will.