I squish
the bug on my bathroom floor
without a second thought, running
away after my foot lifts
from the ground, leaving
the remains for someone else
to remove. Yet, hours later,
when I return it’s still there, on
the floor, and it’s not dead,
but dying. With dismay I
think of how we measure life,
by days and months and years,
but do we ever measure
dying? How long it takes to die,
how long the bug I fearfully
squished lies between life
and death on the bathroom
floor.
the bug on my bathroom floor
without a second thought, running
away after my foot lifts
from the ground, leaving
the remains for someone else
to remove. Yet, hours later,
when I return it’s still there, on
the floor, and it’s not dead,
but dying. With dismay I
think of how we measure life,
by days and months and years,
but do we ever measure
dying? How long it takes to die,
how long the bug I fearfully
squished lies between life
and death on the bathroom
floor.
