WET ANTS

And after they brought in

coffin no.11,

I stopped carrying ants off the wet basin,

into tile cracks.

-not unless their antennas screamed for help.

I couldn't carry ants!

My shoulders would shiver

-though they were really lighter than coffins...

I wish I could've carried all those khaki limbs

out of those blood baths

into some haven in time's endless crevices,

but God never let me.

Did the job himself.

He's good at that...

I'm only good at drowning ants with excessive tears

then watching them slide down the basin

to lift them out with shivering shoulders

back into tile cracks...

In memory of the unknown soldier.