the cockroach, that shining brown-beast,
seems to me repentant of its sins.

would it scurry otherwise
hide in cracks and crevices
eat our waste and squelch
“Thank you. Thank you, sir.”
when you step on its life?

it must be repenting
it must be in disgust of itself.
the spreader of sickness
a symbol of decay

or perhaps it’s waiting
praying for Armageddon
knowing it will laugh last
in the aftermath.