There’s a colony of ants in my brain
That munch and dig and tunnel
Through gray matter and vein and neuron
With their many feet and swinging thoraxes.
Their antennae are metaphors, obviously.
They probe the folds like old soldiers
And guide them in the dark,
Where the electrical pulses flash in rhythm.
I hope they find something worth building in there.
That there is a temple placed to their Ant God
Somewhere in my hippocampus,
And that my amygdala is their Ground Zero.
I hope they build an empire in my head.
Because lord knows, I ain’t using it.