Walking backwards we follow
Your trail of malevolence.
Random doodles scrawled across the
Loose soil lead us back to your nest,
Where empty sacs of life
Lay scattered like
Last week’s dirty laundry.
Carefully we map out the
Stratified layers of sand that
You have loving dug in spiralled
Rhythms of ochre and gold.
Each grain placed with the
Delicacy of an archivist,
A duplicitous tombstone
For the bold and the curious.
You wait patiently at the
Creases of the centre point;
The efficiency of your construction
Affording you this most
Deadly of luxuries.
The shape of this poem was created using a tool provided by Festisite.
This poem is inspired by recent research, which has found that antlions use a
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