the killing

The Killing


On the bare kitchen table a sugar lump, suitable in a cup of
coffee (two are too much) looking like a gleaming rock of
marble on a large, bare upland plain A few tiny scout house
ants had gathered around the rock sending chemical signals
to their tribe and before long they came marching, from all
four corners of the kitchen, an intense moving black mass
which collective goal was to get a holly lick, then go home
and tell about it. A few tiny house ants scars no one, but ten
millions do, so I the threw the sugar lump out of the window,
before they got the idea of turning on me. They all began
marching back to their respective cracks in the wall except
for a few that had decided to settle in a crack on the table,
that was not on so I killed them with my thumb, washed my
hands with vinegar and was absolved of my sin.