The Fraternity of Ticks

Living in a country of my mind
built on the skeleton of real life,

I travel through the temples of grass,
visit civilizations of the creatures

and hear the music of the
ancient languages they speak.

The tiny spiders that flake onto me
from the leaves of the bush organelles

come crawling out of the creases in my clothes
looking for the tender places in my flesh,

carrying the prehistoric message,
"we take your blood when you come to watch."