I am very pleased that my poem, "I am not your insect," appears in the new creepy-crawly anthology, The Bug Book (Poets Wear Prada). Thanks to editor/publisher Roxanne Hoffman.
I am not your insect
Your
underfoot, your exterminated, your bug. My unabashedly hairy legs, whose
gymnopédies twitch like a chorus for a fatal Sharon Stone, delight in ces mouvements
qui déplace les lignes, in the motion, the quiver, the mort, the catch. Mother Kali, you have made me what I am: feminine,
brilliant, entirely without fear. Like my mother, I watch and pray for prey—that it be there, that it give gore,
that I feel it die, that there be more.
