The wasps appeared overnight
It seems
Huddling under the eaves of the house
I’d only ever seen them at night
No stray, menacing fliers
Just a tight ball of yellow and black bodies
Huddling together
Protecting their mother
And if they had stayed that way–
But instead they stung you twice
And went after our daughter’s face
But thankfully she was not stung
Still
I made war on them
In a sweatshirt and long jeans and gloves
A dust-mask and a hoodie, closed down tight around my face
The mask fogged my glasses
And I wore a headlamp with a red light so
They wouldn’t have a light to follow
I needed the lamp because I attacked at night
While they were sluggish, drowsy, dreaming wasp-dreams
And sprayed them with something so toxic
They fell onto the cardboard boxes I had laid out to catch their corpses
Sounding like shelled peanuts falling from a great height
The next morning
I counted twenty-five
And hoped they all perished together in those few seconds
So none would be alone.
Words and Feathers 