ANTS
It’s four in the morning, the dogs want breakfast.
Turn on the light; there they are, all one thousand
of them. Scurrying back and forth, they are taking
sugar to the nest somewhere in the wall.
A scout ant must have picked up the smell of cocoa
brownies; left a trail for others to follow
They are so small but who knows what damage they
are doing to the house? The ant spray I use inside
is supposed to smell like cinnamon. I spray a paper towel
and attack the horde. Last year, I thought I had closed
all the holes with tub and tile caulking. But still they come.
This year, I squirt a gel into the holes I hadn’t found
and outdoors along their paths on the foundation.
Outside I turn over a cinder block, find the nest.
Nurse ants run eggs deeper underground.
I apologize for disrupting their home. I leave the block
until they take all the eggs away. I suppose I shouldn’t kill them,
I let the spiders cast their webs in the sun room.
I just don’t want ants in the house.
Avalon Literary Review
2013
