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Ants

(This was written for class..had to write about something very ordinary that began with the letter A)

All week long, the rain piles up
darkening the farm house,
seeping through the old clapboards.
Black ants, like an army invade
bolder and bolder
their reinforcements arrive.
Like magicians they appear
in the strangest places,
like the folds of my skirts
and my underwear drawer.
We work hard to get rid of them
spraying all the cracks with bait
and smearing poisonious goo
in all the dark corners.
They are like children hiding on the edges
jumping out to scare us in the dark.
The dog catches one with her teeth
only to have it crawl unto her lip
and hang there fiercely,
like a tiny black acrobat.
The dog snarls and the ant
flips unto the floor
walking through the goo,
it smiles back at us.
We think maybe they are nesting
In the our old rotting porch.
When warmer weather arrives
We tear off the porch
and build a new one,
hoping to rid ourselves of the ant plague.
The days of sunshine warm us
and we are hopeful the ants are gone.
Just when we are feeling smug,
one of the little buggers
scurries under my skirt
and bites me on the ass.
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

1:04 min read
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Dee Edgett Claim this poet

I am a 60 year old womam, married 42 years. Live on a farm in Canada. Mother, grandmother. Love to write. Poems are a new adventure. I have had story stories and articles published. more…

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