Kitchen ants sit on my
counter like miniscule
pieces of perfect black
liquorice.

They reverberate their
pheromone calls between
fragile walls in single
file.

Yet afraid for the sugar and
the blackberry jam I take
RID! and cast the creatures
quiet.

Their filament legs writhe
and wriggle under beads of
foam kill formula slowly
bursting.

With a sponge I wipe the
ant bodies clear and let the
sink swallow with a methodical
gurgle sigh.