Ants

Greg Schwartz

Johnny was my best friend.

We played war together when we were little.

He slept over at my house

and my mom cooked us pancakes.

I didn’t want to do it

but the ants made me.

They demanded a sacrifice.

So I bashed his head in with a rock

and dragged him into the forest.

Now they’re swarming all over him

breaking off morsels for their Queen.

They popped both his eyeballs

and peeled away his cheek

and his legs are nothing but bone.

But they’re still hungry, they say.

They want another sacrifice.

They want my grandmother.

I don’t want to do it

but she’s really fat

maybe after her

they won’t be hungry again

for a long time.

Currently Greg fixes copiers for a living and writes whenever he can snatch a spare moment.  Some of his poems have appeared in Black Petals, Aberrant Dreams, Horror Carousel, and Talebones.  He is a member of the Science Fiction Poetry Association and the Mid-Atlantic Horror Professionals.