The beetle clicks itself into inverted flight,
heading underground, the pit now a sky.
Until it bruises its antennae on a head
hanging from clouds it cannot see in this
upside-down country of the blind. Bat-people, thrown
upwardly down to sit on the ceiling’d
floor, their eyes asleep forever in light’s retreat.
Frog-people, mouths forever open for
beetles clicking themselves into inverted flight.
-- Mark Henderson teaches English at Tuskegee University. He earned his Ph. D. at Auburn University with concentrations in American literature and psychoanalytic theory. He has poems published or forthcoming in numerous publications including Cozy Cat Press, From Whispers to Roars, Better Than Starbucks, The Racket Journal, and Literary Forest Magazine. He was born and raised in Monroe, Louisiana, and currently resides in Auburn, Alabama.