Every day at recess the albino boy
digs a hole in the dirt & rests his face there.
He buries his face in the hospice dirt
to escape all that stabbing.
He parleys with the Ants.
With the Queen of the Ants,
his mouth down in the ground.
She sits on her inexplicable
throne of worked filigree &
bristles her precious antennae.
The Queen speaks perfectly to the worm-white boy.
She speaks perfectly to him.
He can only really breathe good in the dark.
His agony turned to the glory
of the underground.
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