The ants congregate
under the desk,tiny, black
clouds of them, heaped atop
one another in a grand
holiday of union and reunion.
They are harmless but unwelcome.
I buy tiny white plastic boxes,
apparently safe even for children,
to await them, some sweet
seduction luring them inside,
where they will die, but at least,
together, a tribe unable
to resist each others’ dark
segmented selves.
Donna Pucciani, a Chicago-based writer, has published poetry worldwide in Shi Chao Poetry, Li Poetry, Poetry Salzburg, Agenda, Journal of Italian Translation, ParisLitUp and other journals. She has won awards from the National Federation of State Poetry Societies, the Illinois Arts Council, Poetry on the Lake, and numerous poetry contests. She is a long-time member of the Poets Club of Chicago, where she served as Vice President for a dozen years. Her seventh and latest book of poetry is Edges.