When I’m caught up in my thoughts,
Thoughts work together to form sculptures.
What are Oscar Pistorius’ thoughts?
Oscar’s thoughts are built into a horrible red sculpture.
It is wet and always will be wet.
He will swim in circles around his horrible sculpture,
churning a red wake under the moon.
My thoughts swarm around a slice of orange.
The sun beams down like a laser of juice.
There are ants all over me, biting tiny fires.
I don’t know what the ants are thinking.
I don’t know what anyone is thinking.
Unless I’m having one of those days when I can read people’s minds.
I join the train of ants marching across a log.
We crawl into Oscar Pistorius’ ear.
My companions drown in shallow red puddles.
I crawl out of his mouth retching and crying.
Rachel is from Boston, Massachusetts, but now lives in the United Kingdom. Her poetry has been published in Shearsman Magazine, The Apple Valley Review and The Stinging Fly.