ant5

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“no, not

the Handmaid’s Tale,

Handmade Tiles.”

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we confirm

no one has sat

in that chair for years

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a trail

of red pigment

rises from the bristles

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the slant of sun

that brings shadows

to veins

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they’re the same

color but they’re not

the same potato

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not gone

they don’t go away

they just happen

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among shadows of

dandelion stalks

a very big ant

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thunderheads

they must become

lightning

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thunderheads

hot purple wind

beneath them

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