And they made a home of my stomach
Wings bumping
Sweeping along
A frenzied rustle
Disturbed by the snakes
Zipping through my limbs
Over the years
They died
Except for one
And this one grew
To the size of my hand
It surely is blue
But if you were to cut my stomach open
The gap would reveal it to be red
For now
The creature lives next to my heart
And waits
Sometimes startled into flight
Paper wings moving
In smooth passes
Gone is the pain of the fighting swarm
Left is the slow slice of that single bug
Weaving about flesh


Popular Posts