Insect crawls <br />over the back of my hand. <br /> <br />Because I am <br />a child <br /> <br />I let it. <br /> <br />To it I am <br />just endless terrain <br /> <br />a strange warm land <br /> <br />full of freckilsh brown sun <br />boyish cuts ‘n’ scratches <br /> <br />that it traverses <br /> <br />trekking over the mountain ranges <br />of my veins <br /> <br />the frozen lakes of my nails <br /> <br />the furrowed ridges <br />of my fingerprints <br /> <br />It’s travels <br />...tickles. <br /> <br />I transfer it <br />to the amazing world of my hair <br /> <br />a totally different dimension. <br /> <br />Imagine it thinking: <br />“Wot de...! ” <br /> <br />THE TWILIGHT ZONE <br />...for insects. <br /> <br />I a world <br />moving through space <br />and time <br /> <br />the planet of me <br /> <br />the insect <br /> my only population.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-only-population-for-lyn/
