RITUAL

In a cane field surrounded by rubble
the eyes of the mantis
look at the body,
almost a corpse,
of a locust.
A gesture from me would be enough
to break the spell, but I
also feel in my blood
the desire to devour.
The turtledove begins its song,
the hoopoe rummages
in the garbage
and the buzzard
lurks in the air.
The mantis pours
the poison of its gaze
into the heart of the victim.
The goddess kneels and joins her hands.

Peace predicts the banquet.