I squat
Among bamboo and scaly
Things
Like a stone-faced deity
From Bayon.
The ant devours my puny home
To make his own.
Fears my magnifying glass
And sole.
We never look up enough.
Who knows
If the feet of God
Aren’t about to leave their own mark
On our fragile spines,
As they uncurl
Beneath his summer home ceiling
When he isn’t looking.
From On the Other Side of the Eye, 2007
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