Mossie Fest Killing [creation Myth #23]

And upon leaning to scrape the waste
to that watery place where your young
thrive, in bubbling wiggle-dance
the outhouse chaste for years, engaged

I notice the buzzless graceful arcs
of gnat-flies, rim-perched, now
randomly advancing, some sucking
on my insides. This implied disregard

fills like shit fills the mossie bowl
the hatred joy implores, 'Destroy! '

Unhappy clapping for hours
as ignored, shit crusts to hair.

by Simon Huggins

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