releasing a pet goldfish into a local pond
Provides the illusion of freedom for all of three days.
Glimmer of joy watching her orange scales flicker
Ebb into the deep.
Hope for her to find home in the kelp,
snails on the damp floor, algae-film on the surface
Pray the catfish will spare her.
Come back and find that
She has devoured the protozoa,
skimmed the algae from the water
Turned freshwater plants to tissue paper
The crustaceans gather at the bottom, terrified
The tadpoles never lose their tails
Perish from competition
She swims in happy bloated circles
Awaiting your approval.
Glimmer of joy watching her orange scales flicker
Ebb into the deep.
Hope for her to find home in the kelp,
snails on the damp floor, algae-film on the surface
Pray the catfish will spare her.
Come back and find that
She has devoured the protozoa,
skimmed the algae from the water
Turned freshwater plants to tissue paper
The crustaceans gather at the bottom, terrified
The tadpoles never lose their tails
Perish from competition
She swims in happy bloated circles
Awaiting your approval.
sediment on my tombstone
the citizens of pompeii saw the earth
erupt, cave in
for a split second
the sky was beautiful
above a blanket of cinders
civilization asphyxiated
mount vesuvius permanent through millennia
dust the bone and brick from
dried magma, disturbed not dissolved
still they live on in our history books.
when i am lowered into the earth,
she will reach upward
collapse my coffin lovingly
my body given back to her,
inevitably,
like every soul finding its way back to the deep
the soil, the ocean
all homes for us,
us lost souls,
dissolved over the seasons,
never fully disappearing.
when a tree grows above my remains
cradled by nature,
i will live on centuries more,
this evergreen strong and tall,
as indefinite as the sediment on my tombstone.
erupt, cave in
for a split second
the sky was beautiful
above a blanket of cinders
civilization asphyxiated
mount vesuvius permanent through millennia
dust the bone and brick from
dried magma, disturbed not dissolved
still they live on in our history books.
when i am lowered into the earth,
she will reach upward
collapse my coffin lovingly
my body given back to her,
inevitably,
like every soul finding its way back to the deep
the soil, the ocean
all homes for us,
us lost souls,
dissolved over the seasons,
never fully disappearing.
when a tree grows above my remains
cradled by nature,
i will live on centuries more,
this evergreen strong and tall,
as indefinite as the sediment on my tombstone.
did you know that ants self-destruct?
The worker ants of the Colobopsis explodens
dedicate their lives to the safety of their nest.
When the termite or worm or centipede
infiltrates the tunnel, the ants gather
to fight, and when there are
too many enemies,
the ants contract their muscles, for a fleeting moment like
the interlocked shields of Sparta, before rupturing their bodies,
spilling over spicy yellow acid.
All along the concrete and the dirt are their remains,
scattered like the aftermath of a paintball fight,
a warning, a flag, a symbol of the utmost dedication.
After death they ward off all evil
through the toxins of their remains.
I have heard somewhere
that ants are intelligent beings, capable of complex thought.
Is it a split-second decision, that difference between life and death?
Is it programmed, ingrained
irreversibly into their biology?
Do they feel the pain?
I like to think I am capable of love, but I don’t know
if I am as good as the ants.
If I could stomach sacrificing the few
to save the many.
dedicate their lives to the safety of their nest.
When the termite or worm or centipede
infiltrates the tunnel, the ants gather
to fight, and when there are
too many enemies,
the ants contract their muscles, for a fleeting moment like
the interlocked shields of Sparta, before rupturing their bodies,
spilling over spicy yellow acid.
All along the concrete and the dirt are their remains,
scattered like the aftermath of a paintball fight,
a warning, a flag, a symbol of the utmost dedication.
After death they ward off all evil
through the toxins of their remains.
I have heard somewhere
that ants are intelligent beings, capable of complex thought.
Is it a split-second decision, that difference between life and death?
Is it programmed, ingrained
irreversibly into their biology?
Do they feel the pain?
I like to think I am capable of love, but I don’t know
if I am as good as the ants.
If I could stomach sacrificing the few
to save the many.
Sophia Li is a senior at Stuyvesant High School. Her hobbies include painting, listening to indie rock, and drawing faces with stars in their eyes. She hopes to publish a book one day. You can find her under a streetlight, feeding the birds in the rain.