The Entomologist

He is no Republican.
He believes in science,
and he is an entomologist.

Insects that once thought
they were wandering the wasteland
near our house, gathering protein
squished by our car tires,
find themselves in categories:
big ones, black ones, fast ones.

He saw something magnified
larger than life, because
he ran into the house and hid.

"Where are you, Jao?",
the Entomologist's grandmother called,
then finding him in her sewing room.

The Entomologist was hiding
from what he had seen.
He is no longer sure
of his political affiliation.

His grandmother is distraught.

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