ANT HUNGRY

ANT HUNGRY

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

Head in my hands

I am mindfully crushed

expectant as a mother and child

trying to deliver

my innermost feelings of love.

Beside a riverbank

I sit and the picnic basket has ants

and her dress

is carried away in an upward wind

exposing her legs

and I am

feverishly scratching on my pen

trying to turn words

into moments

worthy of her attention.

To be a Knight, or a King

I play these things out in my head

wondering if they

will ever mean anything

or should I kill the ants

before they eat the bread away?

Too amused in her

the ants will have their day

but her eyes speak

perhaps in them

I will find the answer, the dancer.

Tossing the pen

I caress her face in my hands

hungry for her charms

and hungrier than the ants.

That’s it, the words I need to say

where did I toss the pen?