- The
Battle of the Ants
- Ross
E. Lockhart
Friday
- home from work
There are ants in the kitchen
Not one
Not two
A trail. A trail from the
Sliding plywood door
Up the side of the cabinet
Into the…
…Liquor cabinet
Throw open the door
Reveal the grand feast
Bottle of Kaluha covered
By tiny black bodies
Goddamn it I yell grab the bottle
And toss it into the sink
Hot water on
Label peeling off
I grab and soak a handful
Of paper towels
Sweep up the trail,
Throw the black specked
Towel into the trash
I open the cabinet under the sink
I'm looking for poison
But see none,
Choose Simple Green over Windex
And renew my attack
Watching
insects curl and twitch
With each spray of cleanser
More paper towels
Decimating the trail
Broken legs and severed heads
In the wake of my sweep
I look at the clock
Five o'clock - Time to pick up Jennifer
I hide liquor bottles and opened food
In the refrigerator
Away from tiny mouths
Away from tiny soldiers
I leave to get Jennifer.
"Hey!"
"What?"
"We have ants -"
"No! Where are
they?"
"The kitchen, we need traps or poison."
"I don't want poison in the kitchen."
"We'll get traps -they take the poison back to the queen and feed
it to her."
"What's that do?"
"Kill the queen, the nest dies."
We buy traps, we go home.
There are twice as many now
As before. Jennifer freaks
out.
She smashes some
We step on them
Sweep them up
With paper towels
Spray more Simple Green
And lay down traps
We go to bed, leaving the kitchen
To the ants,
The traps to do their work
We go to sleep and dream
Of ants
I wake up in the middle night
And look around, confused
The window starts shaking
Then the walls
Then the bed
What the hell are these damn ants doing?
I think for a few seconds
Before realizing
Earthquake
Nothing too worrying
I look at Jennifer, asleep
Good thing, she'd be scared
I hold her sleeping hand
Until the shaking stops
Then I go back to sleep.
Saturday
morning.
Dead ants everywhere in the kitchen
Many live ones too
We go through the ritual
Paper towels and Simple Green
Clean away the fallen soldiers
And living reconnaissance
With the same sweep
As soon as we clear away the dead
More wander from the cracks
On the walls, the ceiling
Jennifer and I retreat for the afternoon
We return Saturday night
Begin the cleaning rite again
Resume our holy war
Against the ants
Our genocide,
Sweeping away the carnage
"This isn't working, these traps suck!"
"I could pick up a bug bomb or some spray."
"No! No poison in the
kitchen!"
"Fine, we'll see if there are any fewer tomorrow."
This time we spray Simple Green
All over the floor and leave
Ants to die
We go to bed
I wake up mid-sleep
Go out to the kitchen
And sit for an hour
Watching the gravediggers
As they gather up the dead
Many injured
Twitching, dying
Covering our floor and counters
Sunday
Morning.
Arise, fewer ants today
Bodies still litter the kitchen
We clean again, then leave the house
Knowing that we are winning
The battle
Outlasting the ants - I wonder
If the queen is dead.
We get back Sunday night
There are a few stragglers
Jennifer goes to watch TV
I return to the battleground
Paper towels in hand I clean the kitchen
An airstrike to rid my nation
Of six-legged invaders
The liquor cabinet is clean
The cabinet on the oven's left
Under the refrigerator
I clean the walls,
The ceiling
I pick up things to clean under
First a ceramic cylinder full of
Spatulas and wooden spoons
Wiping a few from the side
Next the empty fruit basket
Make sure it is ant free
Finally, the block of knives
I lift it in my left hand
Wet paper towel in my right
SHE is underneath
Three times the size of her minions
Fat black body, sharp red head
Mandibles snapping, forelegs thrashing
Attended by her fiercest soldiers
I meet her
gaze
She challenges me
I bring down my towel
Crushing her, sweeping away
Her bodyguards
Breaking her body
With mighty crushing power
I imagine her scream
I imagine the screams of her soldiers
I tear through the monarchy
Their
banners fall
Their
flags burn and crash to the ground
Their drummers, pipers silenced
I have executed their queen
I survey the battlefield
Done with my hands
What the poison couldn't
I toss the paper towels
Into the garbage can
And go off
To brag about my conquests
To Jennifer,
My own queen.
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