dreaming of soft moist bodies
sectional lives
cut in half and still moving
and of scurrying little multiplicities of legs
brushing together
in chirping songs of longing
hard little bodies
with soft little insides
softer still than my own hands
crushing iridescent little shells
painting my face in their remains
I am a God among insects
with now iridescent shells for eyes
Queen to beetles
whose love songs
carry over vast distant landscapes
and never ever end
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