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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