The sun serves as a formidable pair of eyes
a peerless audience
in a way -
though I keep my gaze cast low.
I let the sun see my bare shoulders,
I stare down at some ants -
economical, frantic, busy.
I wanted to tell someone about them.
Their delicate trails,
The sun watched me
and I watched them -
a fractured deity.
The sun is an exigent audience.
I no longer allow myself to bask in its aura,
But I will soak up its vivid doses -
I picture my body full of cracks,
the sun's rays shining through them,
my shadow casting patterns.
in its yearly act,
begins to lift the curtain -
from faintness to fervor.
Find myself startled,
an infantile spider graces my plate.
With cup and paper,
I carry it away,
set it loose on the porch rail.
But it remained still...
beneath an overbearing sun.
I leveled my face to its miniature plane
and stared into eight microscopic eyes.