Fire Ants

People looking back on Oklahoma
In those days think it was black & white
It wasn't.  But it wasn't technicolor either.
And not pastel.  We had a color that was
Dark with strong outlines.  A little like a
Roualt.  Primary colors rained on.

My brother was two years old sitting on
A Fire Ant den.  I don't begrudge them
Like some do.  It's their job to keep things
Off the mound.  They bit him and he cried.
I brushed him off and sent him home.  The Fire Ant
Den is still there in Clyde.

The house we lived in hadn't been lived in
In years and the Rats had colonized the house.
It did have a great barn and everyone said,
"The barn is better than your house!"  I learned
Not to sleep with my hand dangling.  Each
Night the Rats came around.

The house we were supposed to live in was fine
But the family that lived there didn't want
To leave even though they had to.  And then there was
A fire.

He was sitting on the mound crying.  I found him
Before they could kill him.  Years later I was
Fishing and the sky was flat.  I caught a sunfish
And dropped it on the fire ant mound.

My three brothers and I slept in one bed.  Each
Night the Rats walked on the bed and we thrashed
About so they were aware that we were not asleep.  Out
Side the stars were burning propane yellow.

I've learned to be watchful, take clues from my
Environment.  One morning my brother had a scab
Of blood on his earlobe.  One night a Rat nibbled
My finger.

When I happened back to that pond to fish again
I had to go by the Fire Ant mound.  The Ants walked
Over and under the fish skeleton.  No soft flesh
And no scales remained.

There is in me a desire to leave things alone.  I
Don't kill ants.
I don't mind because
the fire ants build life.  The
Rats I long ago forgave.  My brothers hunt them night and day.

Copyright © David Dwinell 2003