Pencil Stubs Online
Reader Recommends


Poison Picnic

By John I. Blair

Odious business this,
Like carpet bombing in Iraq.

I, too, never see my foe
(Though I can hear it scrabbling
Behind the boxes, bins, tools, tires).

Beyond my ears, more evidence:
Shucked sunflower seeds
Spilt beside a sack
I left unguarded overnight.

Painfully, I know
Just why I must react,
My memory still new
Of a refrigerator on the curb,
Victim of a nesting urge
That gnawed wires,
Ravaged insulation.

So today I neatly laid
A poison picnic:
Coumarin-containing bait
So innocently blue
It could be a baby’s beads
Scattered from an accident,
Each a toxic bite.

And now I sit here at my desk,
Waiting, hoping, ruing
That my unrelenting instinct,
My directive to protect my home,

Will soon produce a purge,
A slow and bloody death,
And yet another stick of guilt
Atop my overwhelming load.

©2009 John I. Blair

Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


Refer a friend to this Poem

Your Name -
Your Email -
Friend's Name - 
Friends Email - 


Horizontal Navigator



To report problems with this page, email Webmaster

Copyright © 2002 AMEA Publications