There is a large colony of fire ants in front of someone’s

childhood home, in the winter they keep each other warm

and their queen centered. There is a large colony of fire ants

in front of someone’s childhood home, they have replaced someone’s

memories with indelible rapture. They keep each other warm in the

winter. Their queen is still alive. There is a large colony of fire ants,

did you grow up here? Were you raised by burning exoskeletons?

Did the queen nurse you herself? There is a large colony of fire ants,

and I think decades ago I used to pinch them between my fingers

and cry when they popped when they burned when they stopped.

There is a large colony of fire ants, except it isn’t so large anymore.

Except they raised nobody. That’s you, right? The moniker you claimed for yourself. Nobody. It isn’t so large anymore, this fire ant colony. It was a domestic volcano, whirlwind spice, father brother sister mother, the thing that gave you your marrow. Tell me, do you have an exoskeleton? Can I  try it on? There was a large colony of fire ants in front of someone’s childhood home, except the colony isn’t so large anymore, except the colony isn’t anymore, and it raised no one nobody and oh my god I am dying to tell you—

the ants colonize my brain stem / tell me talk is cheap / do you remember conversing with God? / all those nights ago […] / fear installed in corrosive sutures / I can’t feel my hands // anymore

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Livvy Linz Winkelman is a writer and poet currently pursuing their BA in English and creative writing. Her work is forthcoming in Divinations Mag. She can be found periodically haunting the internet @vacantteeth and @livvyofthevall3y.