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Poem

I really didn’t mean to
Btu I stepped on the young millipede
That lay in the path
Of my foot
I hadn’t seen it
I just heard the crunch
Then felt the wetness
On my foot 
When the damage was done

I cringed
Disgusted
And jumped 
Expecting its insides
To be splashed
All over 
My beige carpet

Then I saw some red

My heart shrank
In horror
At myself

I didn’t know
Millipedes could bleed 

I stared for longer
Maybe in disbelief
Or in the hope that
It would curl
Then crawl away
Seemingly merely bruised

I watched
It writhed
It curled its head
The way I curl my toes 
When I feel great pain

My heart shrank
My skin crawling a little
Thinking
I should kill it 
Fast
And cut off its pain
But I could not bring myself
To further hurt
 Millipede that was now still

I took a piece of rigid paper
And picked it up
It stirred a little
And so did my hopes
Then it stilled
Completely
Like I did
A minute later
Realizing what I’d done
And feeling cruel for it

I threw it outside
On the garden outside
Perhaps it would awaken

This I know is a dream
Reality is 
It is dead
Because I stepped on it

Where was it going?
Do millipedes have families?
Do they have lovers?
They go back to
To stay with
And make love
And get baby millipedes

There is still a patch of red
On my carpet
Where the millipede bled
And I feel like crap
As though
Someone strangled my pet cat


And I wonder
How do they feel?
Those who kill other humans
Do they remember?
Do they have a patch of red?
To remind them
Something bled?

I am sorry millipede
Next time I shall try
To watch where I tread

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