Even Insects
From the Laurels
Tick-by D
Have you ever felt the insatiable longing for the other, holding it in while alone and waiting on the tender openings of the huckleberry leaves early in spring? It is a longing with fire in it, a thirst so raw that would make love to the other’s body if only allowed. Has your mouth ever plunged so deeply in to the skin of the other that you melded together becoming one, until your whole body was taken in and you were carried along in the blood of who you would become in the quiet and flowing dark of tunnels breathing red into a river of forgetting.
Praying Mantis-by R
When I was younger, the praying mantis always seemed to me a Buddha in green, a solitary monk seeking sustenance among the leaves. Occasionally, one would wander into the house and attach a hidden cocoon beneath the mantle of the fireplace. The indescribable joy of a tiny, prayerful face peeking over your dinner plate!
I’ve since learned—Oh, that I had not—what ravenous hunters they are! Some are large enough to chase and kill mice! Who knew? I mean, I knew about the mating ritual, the biting off of the male’s head. I confess to a perverse satisfaction. But now, having seen this predatory side, if I encounter a praying mantis and it swivels its head my way, I believe those front legs are simply clasped in ponderance of how I would taste.
And, a piece about an every day task that turns into an adventure!
Brushing My Teeth-by J
My left hand,
working the electric toothbrush
over and around my teeth
slips, losing its grasp.
The brush tip,
free from the confines of my mouth
dances on,
transforming the morning ritual
into a meteor shower,
shooting stars exploding
on the mirror above the sink
winking good morning,
good morning!
