Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Adventures in Low Income Housing

Claude tiptoes down the mildewed, pee-stained hall 
of the bedbug king and his minions. 
Tapes his door at night, stuffs the ragged hole 
in the wall of the closet
with wadded garbage bags
to keep them from crawling in.
Across the hall, the woman in room 911
has had the worst infestation
the exterminator claims he has ever seen
in his thirty-five years of genocide. Usually
he’ll have to come back twice, three
times tops, but the poor man has already had
to spray the place four times this year.
Claude worries that they’re clinging
to his shoelaces, smuggling themselves in
on the cuffs of his jeans, arachnid immigrants
trafficked across the border.
They should be eradicated, rants Claude,
Wiped off the face of the earth,
even as he bows down to their ancient juggernaut,
trembles at the base of the vermin pyramid
topped by a stone carving of the fierce
Aztec god of bedbugs, dons the ceremonial robes
of a high priest of pestilence and performs tiny
sacrifices in his name, praying to him
to deliver him from this infernal tower,
this hellish high-rise which is all a poor bug like him
can ever afford. 

1 comment:

  1. You should be made to bathe under a shower-head streaming bedbugs instead of water.

    uncle frank