8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

1/9

8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

2/9

8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

3/9

The windows up and its warm

There is a brief lurch in the ants stomach as the car sets forth.

The ant turns to its captain

A chiselled tower of an ant

Sporting a shadow on its mandibles

A paunch of an abdomen.

It turns its head

And in its regard of the other

Tiny solar flares, like the birth of stars

Erupt in the captains eyes

Only to once more be dull

Eyes back on the road.

Theres a flash

Theres a flick

Of the eyes of the driver back to the side

With an occasional click of its jaws

As if chewing on some thought.

It is warm

It is stuffy

8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

4/9

Our worker seems to be sticking to its seat

Faded red seat

Holding like a lover in the heat

With the cracks

With the sweat

With the little flecks, that stick to the worker

Like industrial dandruff.

Click goes the worker

Click click comes the answer

(a little fast, but audible)

And a leg points at the glove box.

Look close at the leg

See the tremors?

Like the buzzing of a bees wings

Or the spasm of a cold winters chill.

Perceived?

The leg trembles back to the safety of the wheel.

And the warm red ant

In the worn red seat

In the sprayed blue car

Bathed by the sage sunlight

8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

5/9

Seems not to have noticed.

A leg un-sticks from the leather

Released with the same reluctance

As that of a jealous lover

Trailing little motes

That dance in the heat.

Thunk goes the lid and in goes the hand

That grabs at the drink that will quench the thirst

Tsst goes the lid, out comes the gas

Up to the mouth tipped to the throat

Sweet is the juice

Cool is its caress.

Bitter it becomes

Cloying now the taste

Swimming is the heat

Panic behind the eyes

Loosening of the muscles

Lolling of the head

Releasing of the bottle

And falling with the speed of one stepping off a cliff

Into midnight.

Frightening shadows in a world of mist

8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

6/9

Muffled sounds like half remembered echoes

Once heard.

Breath is a difficulty

The dream has a smothering quality

As colours slowly marry with the shadows

And the world once mores in focus.

Thump thump

Thump thump

Its heart is like a hammer in the ants head

There is damp earth under its cheek

Try crawling

But its legs are tied together, like a hog trust up for the spit.

Try to speak

Leather thongs bind its jaws together

The taste of stale sweat upon their surface

And a dull ache starts to pound in its many ankles.

As the fog fully clears from its senses

With only crusted eyes and the taste of something sweet in its mouth as an aftermath

8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

7/9

New noises filter into the ants appreciation.

The hollow slam of a car door

A jangling of keys bred with soft padding footfalls upon moist earth strewn with leaves

Followed by silence.

In this moment there is beauty

Birds singing benignly in the trees

Sights of terrific bloom

And all bathed in the refracted light off of a billion waltzing grains of pollen.

This beauty is set to be brief

For the sullying sound of a key penetrating a lock

Tempered with mechanical mechanisms releasing

To the sound of an opening boot

Violate the scenes natural harmonics.

Oh the butterflies

The worker rocks back

And forth

And back

And forth

Imprinting its body in shifting furrows on the ground

Dents that the earth will quickly forget.

8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

8/9

The reward

For this elephantine effort

Is a searing of wrists

And a hard won view of feet under the dormant vehicle.

The action playing out behind the car

Comes to the worker as sounds being choreographed by a shuffling of feet.

First the sound of an unveiling tarpaulin

Followed swiftly by its union with the ground.

As the tarp

Has its contours matched to the world

This realised by the worker

As an appearance and disappearance of feet beneath the metal latticework of the engine.

A suspension

A turn of feet

The sound of grasping

Metal hitting metal

Another turn of feet

With a walking away into the shadow of lost perspective behind the rear left tyre.

Shnk!

8/8/2019 An Ant Under an Empty Swing

9/9

The sound of metal sliding into un-protesting earth

The click of a carapace onto alloy

The exhalation of exertion

The small roots of the world being pulled up

The pitter-patter of dirt raining back down to land

The sun blazing threw the canopy to bask in the cars azure enticements

The little boy listening to the rhythmic rise and fall of the shovel

The butterflies

Ah, the butterflies