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.

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