Ants by Brad Rose

Tiny feet scurry toward the tunnels of home. Like motorists crying and driving. The sky is asleep, the day hourless. If they could speak, I’m sure they would ask, “Where are all the bachelorettes?” but they’re carrying little boulders in their jaws, the way a lion carries an impala by its broken neck. I wish they would relax. They have so much potential. The unstopping frenzy of their hurried lives. As if they belong somewhere else.

Brad Rose is the author of a collection of poetry and flash fiction, Pink X-Ray (Big Table Publishing, 2015 .) His two new books of poems, Momentary Turbulence, and WordinEdgeWise are forthcoming from Cervena Barva Press. His website is www.bradrosepoetry.com