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Clade Song 7


Most scarabaeinae apprentice early on
          as salt-of-the-earth brown-collar rollers
                    or tunnelers, except for the few hoity-toities
                              who leave the humble cow pat to flash
                                        their greens and purples at Cleopatra
                              and live the life of Ramses, glorified
                    for eternity.  Some will hitch a ride on hosts
          and hop down when the produce is fresh,
organic, and locally-sourced.  Rollers
          roll always in an unwavering line, find
                    a little place to call their own, then set to work
                              at once on the nursery, leaving their fortunate
                                        young to be born into feces, eating and drinking
                              naught but shit all the days of their lives until they,
          in turn, find their own burden of excrement
before them but keep their eyes ever upward,
          steering, like no other creature but one, by star
                              tracks rolled eon after eon in the perfect spirals
                                        of the Milky Way.



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C. Wade Bentley lives, teaches, and writes in Salt Lake City. For a good time, he enjoys wandering the Wasatch Mountains and playing with his grandchildren. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Green Mountains Review, Cimarron Review, Best New Poets, New Ohio Review, Western Humanities Review, Rattle, Chicago Quarterly Review, Raleigh Review, Reunion: The Dallas Review, Pembroke Magazine, and New Orleans Review, among others. A full-length collection of his poems, What Is Mine, was published by Aldrich Press in early 2015.