From the 2011 edition of The Crusader: Forgiveness

 I told you: it feels like bugs,
 Millions of bugs (tiny ones)
Sprinting under my skin. Blood-
drowned ants infest
 me, & die: a sad
 diagnosis:
over indulgence. You
jog every day at four
 I stare at the bugs
 crawling
the cracked sidewalk, listen
for the sound of your shoes running home.
 Crunch, splish, crunch,
 Splish. You stop panting & let me
choose this one, lots of legs
scrambling, to save.

Abbie J. Bergdale