a poem about population
there is a cricket in my kitchen pioneer in foreign realm solitary nation beneath vaulted cupboard heaven when day leans low and weary he files one wing against the other thin wire drawn through dusk rasping summer filament strung - trembling - midst cooling air at once - all the small republics of the house suspend their hidden toil the spider halts upon her tensile map termites forget their hunger moths desist their bruising of a false, cruel moon pale fugitive silverfish drift to a pause ghosts along the baseboard shore ants unburden themselves and rest upon endless road even dust mites still and turn their microscopic faces toward the sound all cease, enthralled by a music that has entered sideways and pinned the air in place the walls dim illusion-thin the ceiling lifts like paper and every unseen dweller recalls the wide green mother-world that made them i do not sweep the corner clean i provision him - a thimble’s mirrored pool a petal fallen small alters to his unseen reign for who am i - but brief tenant - to silence sole remaining prophet and his metallic word keeping the scattered Creation whole until indifferent dawn arrives
The first time I read this I must not’ve been in the right mindset to understand what you were saying. So, I saved it to circle back to. Glad I did! I needed some time to calm down and notice the stillness in your verses. Good stuff, as usual :-)
It’s wonderful creating a Zen garden for a singing cricket. I’ve always loved crickets. When I was little, one got into our house and every now and then it would start singing, driving my dad completely crazy. It was hidden somewhere and no one ever managed to find it. I recorded its song, and sometimes I would play the recording when I missed the cricket… and my dad would lose his mind all over again. Thanks for make me remember with your beautiful piece, let's read each other if you like, have a nice day!