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.