THE ANT GLOVE.(Brief Article)(Poem)

 
   Dear Father, after Mother's death, after 
   I'd read  all your letters to her and her letters to you 
 
   and finally understood that I was the fruit of her rape, 
   I walked into the forest. 
 
   The tribe I met there helped me write this letter 
   preparing me as they would prepare a boy 
 
   who wanted to become a man. 
   The elders raided nests of giant hunting ants 
 
   for three hundred shining black workers 
   which they wove into the palm fibres of a glove, 
 
   their stinging abdomens pointing inwards. 
   They blew on them to enrage them. 
 
   They painted my writing hand with black dye 
   from the genipap fruit and thrust it into the glove. 
 
   I had to remain silent while the ants attacked. 
   Can ...