The Anteater

Here is a poem I wrote recently.....

The Anteater

The sticky summer air
coaxes the ants
into an organized frenzy.

Shimmering black dots
communicating invisibly
with the drift of soundless pheromones-
their crooked antennas
perceiving ancient stories
told in less than one syllable.

A boy stoops over the moving mass
he places his finger tip
gently on top of the slowly shifting hill.

The ants on the top of the pile
scurry and scatter away
revealing more ants underneath
in their confusion
ants climb up his arm.

The boy imagines he is an anteater
his arm a leathery trunk
slowly sucking in the ants.

Tiny insect legs
scuttle across his sunburnt skin
tickling the boy.
He clumsily brushes the ants away
and forgets about being an anteater.

***

The boy is at home for dinner
and one ant remains
the ant crawls across the boys face
and pauses at his cheek.

his mother glances at her son
and drops her spoon
it clatters against her plate
and topples with a thud to the hardwood floor.

On his face is a mole she's never noticed before.
The years staring at his face
feeling his forehead when he is sick,
brushing dirt from his chin
and she had never noticed the mole.
She wonders what else she does not know about her son.
She wonders what else she has neglected to perceive.

Outside the anthill is still moving
their tiny black bodies
gleam a rusty orange
under the setting sun
the colony of tiny workers
does not notice the missing ant.