Mal Bicho Poem by Angelica Arancibia

I could see something in the corner,
among the dust, skin flakes and hair like single threads.
How rare!
An insect without a name rocking in a tiny piece of nail,
stroke me as a finger defying my name.

Thus, I put my glasses on, those I do not use
since rarely I precise to see more or beyond.
And like pins in my eyes
in a painful squeaking
the insignificant creature shrinked and strained till sound dead,
and so, when both relaxed
I could count its pale rings long-wise
and see its translucent wings tied on its back.
With a quick snap,
I stopped it from making fun of me.
Since mockery barely I stand

Afterwards I wondered,
of the corpse who would take charge.
I was about to abandon my hand to the gravity,
but held off,
scratched my back instead,
and so, went by letting the poor thing decently to the dust be back,
with the triumph of whom decide the end of a war.