by Woody McCree
The armadillos are coming every night now,
Ripping apart my pristine green lawn
With their grub-searching snouts and claws.
There are ants on my kitchen counter;
Yes, I understand that I practically invited them in,
Cooking for three nights in a row
Without wiping down the surface.
I understand that I am the one who sliced the cantaloupe,
Allowing the juice to drip down,
Forming pale orange puddles on the gray Formica.
I concede it is my fault the ants are here;
Nevertheless, they are here.
The squirrels keep reaching around to my well-hung birdfeeders,
Stretching their flexible torsos
To steal the abundant seed.
The sunflower seed and suet are for the cardinals,
The warblers, and the tufted-titmice
Not the acrobatic rats with fluffy tails.
Floppy green elephant ears keep sprouting up
Through the inches of well-manicured mulch,
Layered impeccably to prevent all weeds from taking root.
This array of choices dizzies me.
I have no choice;
There is only one choice:
Kill them!
Kill them ALL!