One Fell Swoop

The roach passes his neighbours every morning, 

On the search for a new way to live. 

He has six legs that trace the path down past the unpaid bills and school photos on his cold white home.

When the termites made him his front door, he wanted to scream. Now each time he walks through the drywood, his kidney eyes grow green and monstrous. 

The two feelers that hang low from his face listen to all the stories,

shared between the ants or the cellar spiders, the rat corpses or the flies that suck them dry. 

Two birds with piano tile wings swoop down and up with grace, taking whole families in foul swoops. 

The wind blows tightly around each of his legs.

Just like the wind, he was once thin-skinned. 

Death would make him cry and life made his brown cheeks rosy. 

It was when the runt got left behind that the prospect of a new family began to occupy his time. 

Once he becomes a family’s colossus, his eyes will no longer grow green, 

At the sight of termite pedigrees or rats left to rest, tails entwined. 

The ivory-ebony birds will deem him worthy soon enough and one day,

His family of roaches will be taken in one fell swoop.