invaded: a poem in progress

my queen-sized double pillowtop mattress and its springs
are filling up my living room
they're squeezed between the hearth and the purple sofa
they don't belong here
I womanhandled them from the bedroom in a fit of hysteria on Sunday
while the adrenaline was still pumping through my body
after I'd successfully murdered hundreds of the little demons with my Hoover
I felt guilty

finally, today, the third day there was not a swarm
but I can see them through the 6 holes they have made in the wall
eating my grandmother's house
this place I've tried to make my home
tomorrow the exterminator will spray
and they will swarm again

For safety's sake
I've taken the puppy to her dad's house
I hope to take the cat to my mom's
the man says I could bathe in the poison and be 100% safe
I know that he believes that
I do not

I lie on the bed and look up as if I could see the sky
it's warm - the windows are wide open
the ceiling fans twirl
I can hear a slight tinkling from the bamboo curtain
its movements are reflected on my white sky
for a moment I'm feeling kinda zen
this textured ceiling with squares that are patterned exactly the same
ugly - it looks nothing like the sky

then I remember those nasty little termites
lurking in the walls of my bedroom
my Buddhist leanings don't extend to them
I did let a big hairy spider out the back door the other day
I'm frustrated and try to think about effortlessness
I stare at the ceiling and soon fall asleep

this morning I found one of those fuckers
he was crawling on the floor of the bedroom closet
I smashed him with my Birkenstock
shades of gray, it's all shades of gray

it'll be great to get out of town for a few days
I leave tomorrow