FISH(Mar09)

Arms which cradle all loving moments
(Buried deeply like little bugs, like ants)
Who glow in the dying lantern light bespeckled
(Beneath winged things much heckled)
And as this hulking behemoth rolls into a dull roar—
Time is slowing beside it, asking what for?
For only me, so may I be sound enough to cherish
every tiny pigmented color swimming in your skin like fish?
For only ants, so may they return to midnight crumbs ever sour?
Time: He knows (as you don’t) I wont be home within the hour
Yet I wonder who He favors, I? Ants?
Wondering, I dream of loving arms in all moments