A Sonoran Assassin Bug Is Impaled on a Cactus Spine and Eaten by a Tarantula
This plumage that sprouts on barren immensity,
Capsized medusa with upturned stingers
Sown thirsty in a wash carved from a mesa,
Home to the gray assassin bug with spurs,
Is anesthetized by the heat that tempers
Fetters; cautionary in their hush.
The insect's legs pedal quickly in the dust,
Propel it under this insensible bush.
The stings and venom of gorgons burn,
Poisoning with barbs that pierce the crust;
But the cactus, immobile, without venom,
Preys on self-sacrifice, has no bloodlust.
Creation's Artificer! Overseer of the Sand!
While noonward the furnace burns white hot
By what rituals do the flames anoint
The tarantula, at dusk- the day's marplot!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem