There is an insect
On a branch
The branch is in my head
Yes it is in my head
I drilled a hole
In my skull and I inserted the branch
A beetle came and walked through my skull
On the branch
The beetle is sad and crying and
Her tears fill a pond in my brain
In the grey jelly of my brain there is now
A pond with goldfishes and waterlilies
They swim
The water is salty
They swim through the beetle’s tears
The goldfishes are my dreams
From the poem by Cynthia Girard, There is an insect
