The Ripple Effect of Locusts

armour-plated locusts, olive and brown. Speckled wings, jagged legs, exoskeletons. Collisions. Their mandibles, jaws, eating disorders. And cockroaches, fat landlocked prawns crawling in underwear drawers. Flying ants, biplanes, drones. Drones with cameras. Those with black eyes, compound eyes, green eyes, blind eyes. Insects that crackle, rattle, scuttle, bang on windows, force their way in. Under doors. Through cracks. Holes in floors. Locusts on bookshelves, cicadas behind blinds. The Amazon. Lepidoptera. Giant Neuroptera. Praying Mantis. Prayers. Revelation. Chapter 9. The horses, faces, teeth, hair, wings, power. Locusts, crucified on grilles, yellow blood spattered on windscreens. Large moths bumping on panes. Stick insects, pick-up-sticks, angled legs, protractors, geometry. Back legs knotted in my hair, scratching my arms. Daddy-long-legs, sugar daddies, promiscuous daddies. Flying, diving, planes, helicopters, hang gliders, parachutes. Clicks in the dark. Therapists. Desensitization. Visualization. Locust in the corridor. In this room. On my chair. On my shoulder.