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The Ants Ponder Financial Markets

For us, bear market
is a hairy smell with vast claws

tearing into a rotten log,
exposing a store of honey.

Long thick lines
of my sisters roil over duff

to carry bees’ stolen assets
back to our nest.

For us, credit is the food
we give any ant

that smells like our sister.
We feed her, even if

she comes to the nest
with nothing.

Cars, banks, credit default
swaps, balloon payments—

These have no smell,
they do not feed us.

Above us your homes go empty,
cupboard doors flapping.

We stream into halls,
over counters. No one stops us.

They didn’t walk away—
They piled in a car

with a dog and their young.
We could smell

its dung-filled diaper.
They left so much for us—

We carry it all away.

--This poem first appeared in the Star Tribune

Poet

Legend
Plum Cantata
Jews in Space
Losing
The Ants Ponder Financial Markets
Known by Heart Poetry Preformance