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FURTHER READING
Poems by Joanie Mackowski
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Ants [excerpt]

 
by Joanie Mackowski

Two wandering across the porcelain
Siberia, one alone on the window sill,

four across the ceiling's senseless field
of pale yellow, one negotiating folds

in a towel: tiny, bronze-colored antennae
"strongly elbowed," crawling over Antony

and Cleopatra, face down, unsurprised,
one dead in the mountainous bar of soap.

Sub-family Formicinae (a single
segment behind the thorax), the sickle
moons of their abdomens, one trapped in bubbles
(I soak in the tub); with no clear purpose

they come in by the baseboard, do not bite,
crush bloodless beneath a finger. Peterson's

calls them "social creatures," yet what grim
society: identical pilgrims...






From Ants by Joanie Mackowski. Copyright © 2001 by Joanie Mackowski. Reprinted by permission of University of Pittsburgh Press. All rights reserved.
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