A girl on the bus told me
that when her mother peeled up
the carpet the carcasses
of insects fluttered and shifted at the disturbance
and that is why she does her homework on the bed
For days I itched to cut away
a corner of my room
to check for insects moving underneath
like botflies in the skin
And felt each day go by like
another ant travelling my nervous skin
until I put my scissors down
at thinking, my grandmother is ashes
and cannot move again, even at the quaking
movement of the earth, the shaking
of a rug, the threat of a vacuum.
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