Civilization Of Ants by Mark Parsons

Civilization Of Ants

Silver mist
Chemtrail lines
Crisscross clear

Azure sky.
Falling down
Trellis work

Streams diffuse.
Stain,
Then smear.

Disappear.
Far below,
Here on earth,

Under roofs
Built on pitched
Rafter beams

Stainless steel
Cutter wire
Slices through

Gravid blue.
Birth defects
Start to form.


Every moment of life
Remembered,
Like countless pellets
Of plastic resin
Compressed together
And heated,
Makes
Viscous jelly
Extruded thickly
Through vintage keyholes
Like stenciled skulls,
And some cryptic facts about bullet trains,
For injection-molding as
One-to-seventy-second scale action figures
And soldier-men
For a wargame played
On a six-by-four, custom-made
Fibreboard tabletop…

Earthen turf
Blended fine
Shaken out;

Lowland shrub
Forrest blend
Bushes clump;

Dark green pine
Cedar trees
Framed on wire
Shed their leaves;

Landscaped scenery
Sprayed with fixative,
Static charged,
Makes the grass
Stand on end;

Rocky ridges and stony outcrops
Enclose the featureless
Flatland kill-box devoid of trees.

*

Tantric sex
Sticky note
Paper chase

Dart deflates
Sky-blue tarp;
What was meant

Left unsaid,
Under wraps:
Cached in molds

Slick with sprayed
Mold release,
Resin cast

Plastic toy
Soldier-men.
Stubborn air

Lodged within
Trunks and heads,
Rigid limbs,

Vacuumed out,
Suctioned through
Pour canals;

Molds unstrapped,
Twisting pops
Slowly cured

Figures free.
Hobby knife
Cuts away

Flash and bleeds;
Smallest grain
Grinder wheel

Dentist drill
Softens seams
Running down

Fixed and posed
Arms and legs,
Left across

Base supports,
Single line
Head-to-toe

Wraparound
Plastic cast
Flange erased.

Divvied up,
Meted out,
Action pose

Quota met,
Models fill
Glossy clear

Lowest gauge
Poly bag:
Fold design

Header card
Stapled twice;
Hanger-hole

Center punched;
Hung from rack:
Jumbled up,

Put upon,
Every lie
Told about

How they died,
Spirits flag.
Sleep deprived,

Thought coheres:
Something meant,
Left unsaid.

Glassy stiff
Limpid film
Over mouths,

Breathing deep
Tainted air,
Lungs decay.


Author’s note

What’s a cretic foot? Orphan Annie’s catchphrase was ‘la di dah!’ Pronounced LA di DA, with the stress on the 1st and 3rd syllable. This is what’s known as a cretic foot. You don’t hear it often in English, except in iambic / trochaic meter, when making a substitution or a transition between the two meters. Otherwise, it’s limited to advertising slogans, like ‘Soft ‘n’ Bright’ laundry detergent.

Imagine you wanted to write a poem entirely in cretic feet. How long do you think you could keep it up? A better question, WHY would someone want to write a poem entirely in cretic feet? An even better question, WHY ask WHY?

ABOUT THE ARTIST

Mark Parsons‘ poems have been recently published or are forthcoming in Ex Pat Press, Dreich, Cape Rock, and I-70 Review. His books include, Stills, (Southernmost Books, 2023), Spiral (Anxiety Press, 2025), and The Kingdom of Middle Children (forthcoming, Southernmost Books). He lives in Tucson, Arizona.  His twitter handle is https://twitter.com/parsons_mfa

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