life-cycles

falling from the masticating jaws
of the herbivacious ungulates that clip
the tips of grass blades, the uningested
ant escapes that evening’s immolation
and the circuitous route of cud-balls
from stomach to teeth, stomach to teeth
escaping its inevitable end

shaking off the inexplicable compulsion
for crepuscular voyeurism,
the ant descends the broad green leaf
as the sun slowly rises from dawn
to mid-afternoon, and returns
to its feast of slime balls, the sweet
secretions of the common land snail,

the little pellets, metacercariae cysts
encased in mucus, passed by the snail—
survival of the fittest never meant
freedom from life’s unpleasantries,
even the king fills his chamber pot—
at night. the parasite returns to
its host through a river slime

the dicrocoelum makes its home
in the sub-esophageal nerve ganglia,
compelling the ant to climb the blade of grass
and wait for the nightly grazing, forwards
or backwards, no matter where you start
you’re gonna end up sheep shit

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