Poetry by Irena Praitis
I can’t see what’s at the core of it—all the wriggling lines,
characters massed around this point. Was it once
alive, pinned to concrete, stuck now, in the light, or a
splotch, the dark wedge in a green sea of dripped
mint-chip cone, the sugary life blood so compelling
as to draw this group core-ward, to inspire their energetic
massing, their ganging up, piling on, stripping it
down together, fire, fire, fire— the text gone viral,
gather, tear, spray your poisons, the compassion nowhere
to be seen, the drive to feed running free?
There are 2.5 million ants for each human, an
estimated 20 quadrillion—there are 20,000 trillions in 20
quadrillion.
We could stomp and spray and fumigate and not
decrease our per capita of ants by much.
Still, their numbers and those of other insects now
decline. Even in the quadrillions, you don’t always
have it your own way.
Irena Praitis is a professor of creative writing and literature at California State University, Fullerton. She’s currently serving as department chair. Her poems and translations have appeared in more than 100 literary journals and her most recent books are Rods and Koans and Cage of Bone.
