Buffalo Grass
Stenotaphrum secundatum
they walk trails I can almost see,
dodge when I place grass in their way,
carry their treasures back to somewhere.
there’s a dead freddy, the green barbs
of its back legs look like they could cut
an ant in two. instead, two carry a leg
away from the body, the barbs and foot
catch at everything. others pick
at its wings, front legs, juicy abdomen,
eyes – prismed seeds staring back at me.
it watches itself cut and portioned
by soldier after soldier
in a grass cave reflected in my eye.