To lift the Earth
like Atlas, an ant carries a grain of sand
on its existence. He does not strain
nor creak, because an exoskeleton
will not take the adjustment
from any chiropractor,
nor will it shed any spurs, little barbs,
a rain of needles from a dying cactus.
No, an ant flexes into profound
stability, a spire the sunset
cannot see, because underground
an ant is not small, but the world
BIO: Doug Olmstead has previously been published in Poetry Quarterly and Haunted Waters Press. He lives in Washington, DC.