Children of the Universe, us,
We compared the holes where our wisdom teeth
had ached, tongues soft with velvet lollings.
I belong and deserve better, and more,
a birthmark strawberry wiped across
my sweaty playful brow.
We played pretend, imitating the dramas taught
last sunday from big screens blaring
from the corner of a taupe classroom,
hung with inspirational cartoons.

And we were together everywhere,
having the fun of locusts,
entertained with slowly blackening the sun.
Observing ant hills, we were disgusted and fascinated,
wanting to see them stop, and with
hands flapping madly, I shrieked for Father.
But Mum was the one; she gathered up the poisons,
casting a sharp shadow while spritzing the insects
back into dust as my friend clapped, dancing.