a train of a billion ravenous centipedes
circles the earth every morning
looking for their next meal.
each minute,
a helpless prey is drawn into this mass,
ripped into pieces for consumption
before the metamorphosis.
then a cocoon for shelter,
a carapace for skin,
a mandible for lips.
emerges another insect to wander
slithering beneath office tables at night,
and hard-to-clean spaces,
at extra cold storage rooms when no one else is looking,
on scrap piles illuminated by city lights
that are varying shades of green.