Telling Of Insects Poem by mark littler

Telling Of Insects



Insects are always rude to us
legged ugly
three body skins

what do they see?
blob heads
larger scanners

what do they eat?
suckers
we drinkers

Avoid the cracks
where carapace runs dark
with names of bright Ariel
Deaths head coachman
stag sting dung harvester

I fear their species and genera from flatbooks and late night cinema
flea in a bag and driver forms made gigantic by swallowing fog and air
monochrome and white radiation
breeding across clicking screen
hungry as a nest is hungry
for unbelievable woman playing scientists
fifties decade bow and gloss pinned beneath hammer heads and red flag sickle incisors

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