My War With The Fleas Poem by Lonnie Hicks

Came August
the Flea Commander
slapped his walking stick
upon the table bare

surveying his battle plan
testing his jumping legs
assembled before him were
flea battalions on the ground
restless for the attack
mosquitoes and flies to buzz the air,
giant bedbug tanks from New York
gnats, moths, and crawlies eager for blood to suck
bat sentries, owl look-outs
coyotes to howl signals out
all was ready.

“Now, ” he began slowly

The family in there does not yet suspect
and we must not relinquish to them
our element of surprise.
We don't want them to get a chance to mobilize
until after we attack
and gain our cache of blood
surprise before they discover where our larvae lay
before they deploy their canisters of Raid
or insect repellents
before they open their bomb sprays
before their wash the beddings
before they deploy their expense flea sprays
and lethal flea droplets
we want to hide in their beds, dug in
we want to hide in their animals fur
in their clothing
everywhere
and before morning we will have established
our impenetrable beachhead.

So he said ready your selves for the strike this night
as they lay asleep.

With that he stood
his flea legs elevating him
above the others, shouting

Are you will me?
A roar went up

and I watching from my hiding place
crept away
saying to myself;
not this year you suckers
you’ll get your own surprise
glee in my voice.

To be continued.