close ups

i asked for a magnifying glass
because i wanted to burn ants like boys on TV.
i crouch in the mulch by the edge of playground 
& watch the ant hill bleed bodies
into the grass. school lets out at three pm.
streams of ants all rushing. dads factory 
lets him out at three-thirty pm. he doesn't
carry a lunch box like other men. maybe, like the ants
he chew on the edges of things. there are all kinds
of mounds to climb in & out of. choose your
rushing. i can see the ants clearly through the glass. 
all if them are boys. you can tell by how
they walk over each other. you can tell by
their scurrying. i poise the glass above
like god. all of their scribbled dot heads.
i try to search for their eyes but instead
i find their abdomens--they move like
dancers. the ants are dancing i think 
still holding the magnifying glass.
it is true that the glass makes a spot
of heat & maybe if i had more patience i could
focus it & burn the mound. i can't do it.
i try to hold still but my hand always
starts to shake & i wonder what's wrong with me. 
i imagine all these magnifying glasses
waiting up there behind the clouds.
god gets a good look at us. notices our shoe laces
& our fingernails. my pupils become as large as ant heads
& i walk with them. i carry a crumb 
over my head like a sacrifice.  
i feel the world getting hotter 
before i catch on fire. no one is holding
the glass. the school shutters
like a house. the molded earth shifts 
under our sneakers. all of us boys
looking for the glass. i tell them nothing
despite their clamoring. the heat becomes 
intolerable. we all lay down &
that's when i go-- 
a bloom of smoke & flame.
combustion. the other ants screaming 
with their pin-prick voices. each of them:
flashes of fire only seconds later.