Zeno’s Tortoise

The daddy-longlegs skitters nervously
Through the morning air, coming to rest on
The gleaming tiles of the bathroom wall.

The hand begins its solemn arc of
Blurred perfection, fingers splayed
Wide in instinctive recognition.

The impact crushes the fragile skeleton,
Extinguishing a temporary existence.

The brain registers a pang of mourning, but
Sadness rapidly fades with the urge to release
Some shit into the municipal sewage network.