Poet-Bug Oppressed
They want you, your thousand-eye view
and they tip you past flattery's edge. You settle
on your sage cushion, flash a tetrahedron glance
admit them to synaptic closets.
Their honey-tipped probes slip into
sun-floating cells, film clicks,
splicing angles, plumpudding cachet.
Your antennae pert in their embrace
convolving brain souped and tickled
filaments cored and extracted
you buzz down slumbering spirals
wobbly clues hoaxed in scentless breeze.
You try to fly but fail.
You watch their mimicking flight,
their biceps tattoed with your wing designs.
From your darkest cell
an image blinks: your crawling body caught
in their coveting amber---
jaw stretched in silent shout.
~~~~~~~~~~~
by jbprince
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