Gaius villosus
Beetle, I silk my burrow for you.
Short tunnel of darkness. Room
for your body only inside my body.
I could spin a fable out of this:
Wind whistling through the wheat,
acacia trees creaking, the earth
wrapped around me like skin. Outside
this hole, machinery rumbles
in tune with the angst of the biped,
slowly harmonizing everything:
a drought song, a wildfire song, a long,
dissolving corpse on the tongue.

Header photo of trapdoor spider burrow by MrsKirk72, courtesy Pixabay. Photo of Melissa Studdard by Alexis Rhone Fancher.