The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

How they invade my home.
How they infect my mind.


These small, black ants
That leave veiled threats behind.

These small, black ants
That gather at the sink.

And when they're squeezed,
They stink.


These small, black ants
That often carry flags.

These tiny banners,
Often red and white.

All strength of their convictions
Is in numbers.


These small, black ants
That like to tell bald lies,

These tiny lies
That cut across each line.

And when you decimate,
They multiply.


You must not let them
At your gate.

You must not have them
In your dreams.

Give poison to their queen
And wait.


How they disperse and roam.
How they disband and die.

With frantic chants.