a destroyer of worlds

i am responsible for many

deaths it seems,

and yet i sleep well at night.

do i regret

the coffee that i sip

on the back deck.

a bug of some unknown

origin

afloat in the warm rough

of cream and sugar,

caffeine?

what else have i killed?

what insects have met

their demise splattered

against my windshield?

what possum or squirrel

survived the roll of my tires

on the darkened road?

what have i stepped on

without noticing, the cry

of pain. deaf to my far away

ears. caterpillars,

moths and flies, i kill

them all without an ounce

of remorse.

no shame.

the mosquito's life is squashed

beneath

the slap of a hand

against my thigh.

my black boot brushes

against the ant hill,

causing chaos.

even the snake i beaned

with a rock, before

he bit me, is beyond my

empathy.

i kill everything.

i am Oppenheimer

to insects,

and other things,

i am a destroyer of worlds.