several bugs of a varied sort
have gotten into my home
on warm evenings,
when the air-conditioning
chills our bitterness,
i always leave the door flapping,
and they swarm right in.
i slayed the manic mosquitos
upon their first advance,
but i couldn't bring myself to kill
that strange, ugly-looking bug
flying aimlessly around my kitchen.
it was fragile and attractive,
in a dark, prickly sort of way.
it did no harm, batting its
comical eyelash-tentacles at me.
unfortunately, there is also another..
a fierce, intimidating junebug, sharply
buzzing. with bottled terror -fizzing up-
i will passively tolerate it,
[when it doesn't fly at my face
--i'll admit that i'm prone to
running away when it does]
the moths were too innocent to pursue,
"butterfly's dry best friend":
[so difficult to catch, floating around..
too attracted to the light]
the crystal chandellier:
[enchanted, distracted]
they are involved.
i couldn't just open the door,
hopefully and suggestively,
expecting that i wouldn't
let in some more offensive insects.
oh how this battle bites
into me. you draw my blood
and expect me not to itch
or want to squish you.
i can't say that i've managed
to assertively deal with all intruders.
sometimes i never notice the mosquitos
buzzing around my head and landing,
quietly on my back, out of reach.
when i do feel the sting of their poison,
they act casual, obdurately preparing
to fly off. i bring down my hand,
but i'm always too late.
i can't offer any more donations
and it itches me to contribute
to this violent production
of the obstreperous offspring
that are inevitably produced.
