Nevertheless, I dislike/ The way the ants crawl/
In and out of my shadow. Wallace Stevens
Smash-scrunch-crunch-smash
again smash: 1-2-40-100-127,
a scattering of ant bodies
–the parade of ants creeping
no longer across my kitchen floor,
my guilt.
My heart is heavy as my hand.
All this death, yet I have
murdered no one, just the promise,
such a little promise, I had promised:
I tried to call, but there was no signal.
In the park, far away, where they are
camping out, my son and grandson
are waiting over breakfast
they are waiting after lunch
a promise is a promise
I did try to call but
couldn’t get through.
dining alone in the night
beside the campfire no longer waiting
in the dark in the park, where
I had assured them I would arrive
by 10 am. But I did not, could not.
Now, I, who am not waiting, dread
how they will see me, the breaker
of promises,
I, who killed 127 ants,
which, waiting for no invitation to dine
on the scatterings about my kitchen floor,
had come in the night. And–oh my–are yet
arriving.
In and Out of My Shadow
Cordelia Hanemann, writer and artist, currently co-hosts Summer Poets, a poetry critique group in Raleigh, NC. Professor emerita retired English professor, she conducts occasional poetry workshops and is active with youth poetry in the North Carolina Poetry Society. She is also a botanical illustrator and lover of all things botanical. She has published in numerous journals including, Atlanta Review, Laurel Review, and California Review; in several anthologies including best-selling Poems for the Ukraine and her chapbook. Her poems have been performed by the Strand Project, featured in select journals, won awards and been nominated for Pushcarts. She is now working on a novel about her Cajun roots.