Armadillidium

Sudden black across the carpet
A spot, a stain, and I go
To fetch a towel, but
Upon closer inspection
She is a woodlouse, pill-bug,
Tiny isopod mountaineering
In the fantastic fibers
Of the floor. I ask
Where she is headed
But receive no reply except
A vague wave of her feelers;
She is far too busy navigating
To pause for conversation.
With just cause, too-- I imagine
My feet as she would see them:
Gigantic, grotesque, monstrous pink
Cliffs in the distance. She curls
Into a ball when she notices them,
And I am hurt: I always thought
My feet rather lovely.