There is no good reason
to kill these stinky little ants.
They are not eating the house,
and are not much interested in
cat food.
Unlike other such creatures,
they don’t even leave evidence.
But they assume too much,
coming and going,
scouting and reconnaissance,
their egg-bejeweled queen somewhere out of sight.
They come in from the wet
or the dry
or the cold (or is it the heat)?
If only they had stayed hidden
I wouldn’t have to feel guilty
about my compulsion to descend from on high
and smash them with my bare fingers.
I am sorry, ants.
Sants.
