Is he like me? my father asks Is he an ant like me?
I had to pause, and picture myself an ant—
I’ve dreamt of this before in 2012, right before,
THE END OF THE MAYAN CALENDAR
remember that nonsense?
I had dreamt of being an ant, of looking up from wet dirt, the smell of after-rain filled my small ant body— something in me, trembled a quake of hooves and thunder rushing, lava followed— a great fire erupted, animals ran from it dripping heavy with fear tremendous noises filled the air I burrowed into my colony decided to take out the trash at a later time
but the question was about foraging, my father asked if my husband foraged as he had foraged, Did he defend the nest? Was I the Queen?
YES, I answered We have built a swarm of warmth he carries my weight in all its symptoms in all its revelations