by April 8, 2015 0 comments

I squash the bug
making its way across
the cracked linoleum
and then I remember,
turning my shoe over
with much regret
I look at what is left:
a few random legs
a black splash of innards…
taking my finger
I poke at the mess
I have made
and wonder –
Kafka, is that you?

editors note:

An ahimsa encounter with literary greatness. Ouch! (Another mad missive from Ryan on his page – a different kind of encounter, check it out.) – mh

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