Saturday, April 16, 2011

Something Small

Something Small

something small
faceted, refracting, chucking
hot white splinters to wince the eye
winking from the country of the dead
where no light stumbles except
to be changed changed changed again
in that crystalline splitrail corral

something small
a silicant irritant a tiny mote
gets under the skin encysts
insists itself and carpenters
its own infected radiant bliss
taut ruddy and inflamed the setting
drops the pearl

something small
crawling flat to feed
glossy grey and many legged
inserting its needle nose into the skin
drawing out what makes it fat
to bursting, obscene itching resistant 
to removal except by fire

something small
a point of steel a tiny blade
hard as the trickster’s heart
so thin, so almost invisible at the cut
except for the drip drip drip
of ruby it leaves in its voiding 
wake of words

April 2011

Photo: Bug on Lacebark, by joy ann jones 2010 


  1. Once again awesome picture to go with your writing. One question though, where do you get your ideas?

    I wish my view on life was as varied as yours. Mine consists of job, family, food, fat cat, hobbies and fat cat again.

    Fat cat should get two mentions because she demands so much attention :D

  2. A poet and naturalist too! Such exquisite detail and precision of language though bug phobic read with fascination at the beauty and horror of it! Antonia Baranov

  3. Thank you, Antonia.

    @s: The ideas live here, skav. I don't have to get them. Glad to hear Crazycup is doing well. I hope becoming fat has channeled her excess homicidal energies.

  4. The irritant that creates the pearl. A meditation for life. I love the poem and the gorgeous picture you chose to illustrate it.

  5. Thank you, Ann. It was a cool bug.

  6. @hedgewitch lol, yea she's no longer going nuts on me ever since I got her fixed.

    Although she does do something rather weird. If Sarah and I are playing around like I'm tickling her and she screams, then that dang cat will run from wherever she was laying down from and meow at her. I swear Buttercup thinks that Sarah is her kitten and she has to protect her. As for me well she doesn't attack me anymore, but she'll give me this look that can only be described as a sympathy attack. Basically she's saying, "WHY???!!!"

    The freaky part is that she is the slowest and quietest cat I've ever had. She never meows or when she does it's this pathetic tiny little meow, but god forbid Sarah sounds like she is in trouble because momma will come to the rescue. If it sounds like I'm in trouble she might look at me and then go back to sleep.

    I did find something out that is rather interesting. If you half close your eyes when looking into your cats eyes in cat language that means the same thing that a smile would mean to us. It really works too. When I do that she'll either do it back to me or flip over and start purring. She's a much happier kitty now that I've learned her language.

    Sorry about the long "cat" post. She is little and irritating at times. So it sorta goes with the theme of the poem. ;)

  7. I never minded, the bight, the blade, the cyst, as long as the end result gives me a drop or two of blood I can tattoo into my own being.

  8. Yahhhhhhhhhhh! GAHHHH! A bug! buuuuuuuugggggggggggg!!!!! Gerroffa me! *twitch jump dance writhe* A bug!!!!!

    I mean, um....nice poem.


  9. Oh, wow, Hedgwitch! You really knocked this one out! I love all the alliteration, and it's like it's talking to me. All those tiny incisions and the body's reaction to the smallest things. It's got me itchy and pained at the same time. I love the last stanza the best though--the drip drip drip of ruby. Nice!

  10. Yes! It is a bug, an itch, a pest, a pestilence, a pox. So many great images, but "hard as the trickster's heart" is definitely my favorite.


"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats