pygmy ants we call them
unseeable with bad eyes
the width of a thought
length of an eyelash
they single file into the
sealed cookie jar
swarm invisible crumbs
dining on what the vacuum
can’t grab
and bite like an evil mosquito
I’m trying to see where
they’re getting in
find that broken black hair
of a passing lane to spray
“Make sure you wipe the counters
good every night” I tell the husband
in the morning I see
the tiny Sherpas
climbing a cabinet
then split off
to a dozen restaurants
open for breakfast
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