I am covered with bugs.
Beetles. Lice.
Creeping, crawling things.
No spiders.
They cling to my hair.
I wipe them from my eyelids.
They infest my mouth.
I chew.
I spit them out.
They taste like kidney beans.
The other poets are hosts, too.
We are all hosts.
Food tables outside,
covered in insects.
We dig in.
-
Author:
Megan Blaney (
Online) - Published: August 1st, 2026 05:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Online)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.