Today’s prompt encouraged us to write a poem about an animal, which was an excellent excuse for me to to write about a cockroach for the first time! I dedicate this one to my patient hissers, Kafka and Rilke.
The Cockroach
He burrows, searching for
the trail left him by his ancestors,
alive with the warning that
no food should go to waste,
the knowledge that
the steady flux of day and night
is the only constant.
Tripped up by my fingers,
he scurries away –
my warm scent frightens,
gives an edge to the flight.
At the border between
human and insect,
an offering of apple and bread
marks an unsteady truce –
we may both be searching
for the same truth.
Encyclopaedia Vanitatum 