by abbyt06
i wonder how bugs feel
slowly losing their lives
dying in their youth
succumbing to ignorant people
can they not suffer?
do they feel pain?
sharp twinges, alcohol on the wound
oh entomology
waking to the beaming sun
feeling less than well…
beaming
a bit drowsy
i peek outside the lofty window
circling the dust that powders the ledge
i notice insects as well
desiccated, sun-baked
curled up and completely devoid of life
appendages bending concave
heads being laid to rest on my sill
lives burrowed as cavernous as the ocean
heads bowed in tandem
i take a brisk step outside
removing a few asters from the tubes that allow them to live
returning back inside, i suck a shallow breath in
the house smells stale, bare
making my way to where i sleep
i stop to gaze at the window
placing two flowers alongside the bugs
i grasp the last between my index and thumb
vanquishing and flattening it
maybe now the insects can rest easy
knowing they weren’t the only ones