A Tiny Black Beetle

A Tiny Black Beetle

A tiny black beetle,
Like a comma escaped from a half-finished novel,
Stalks across the blank page of the tiled bathroom floor,
Meets the cracked face of the broken tile,
A hard return in the chosen route.
The beetle turns and marches back again,
Traces another resolute search for destination
Or meaning,
The novel unravelling with each staccato step
To the line of ancient grouting,
A canyon gaping at his feet like an opening sentence,
Interrupts his travelling ambition.
He stops, a beetle indecisive for once, and then
Goes left and heads for the bottom of the page,
Like a novel determined upon suicide.

Line Count: 15
Word Count: 104