Dizzy with Poison

 

The ant stumbles across the bathroom floor,

swirling, twisting, roaming without ambition.

 

Normally bee-lining for food, this dance

reeks of the poison set out yesterday.

 

Towards the window, away, towards again, away,

swayed by a wind no one else can feel, circling.

 

I take the bottle of Raid and spray, dousing

the ant with amounts that drown, not trusting

 

the kill on contact label plastered

across the cool can. But I missed. In the mirror

 

I see the same dance, spinning and whirling

in directions I never knew I could go.