WHAT IT MEANS TO BE INSECURE – POEM

yesterday morning i saw a cockroach
crawl out of my bedside table.
in a scurry it left the drawer where
i keep gum wrappers
and cashed checks
and made it’s life in mine.

it began as a gentle touch
hair, shirt, sweat
a squirm and a cringe
a million cactus hairs
hissing through a greasy shell.

out in the world
i carried cockroaches for coins
used them to pay for coffee
until it started to get dark.

at sunset the cockroach jumped

to my shoulder, barked

“plant one on me!”
and snapped it’s big
claw of a kisser in my face
all while throwing around
it’s antennae like they were demanding an encore.

when i got home that night
and looked in the mirror i saw that
i had become the cockroach

writhing and dirty
and trying not to fall on my back.

 

 

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