Postcard 19

Otherworldly strangeness of insecta
Well, not so much not of this earth so much as
Utterly foreign to us in every way
Too many legs and inside out bodies
See-through wings and copper green blood
Aliens which dwell among us, outnumber us
Consider Hymenoptera (or don't if you want your dreams
Nightmare free) where each individual is more
Cell than separate entity. One death, one thousand
Is unnoticed by the whole, the loss is not a factor
In the collective's unrelenting quest, no point wasting
Time mourning the loss, they
Don't even slow down.
Consider the larvae
Moist and gelatinous
Impossible to love and
Then they are pupae
Asleep and changing
Metamorphs
But always in contact with the mothership