This library ant,
this fellow scholar of the past few days
wandered across my desk attracted by the scent of glue and
my amplified tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard.
The only living soul to keep me company tonight
is being smothered by the thickening agent on my notepad.
How furiously he struggles to break free from his prison,
I could help but he might bite,
I remain still and watch.
He manages to remove one leg from the emulsion
only to return to his previous position
sinking deeper into the mire --
this Elmer’s quicksand.
I can almost see his heart racing
adrenaline accelerating through his veins
his mind aching to return home for one more day
so much he’s left unsaid, undone, unresolved.
He thinks for one last moment,
realizes it’s too late to make amends for his wrongs,
that he should have listened to his friends and stayed out of sight;
he curses his trust in the massive brown sister he’s played with before --
he lies among the drying goo
stuck to my notebook.