Hunt of the Creepy-Crawlies
by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen — Read all 1,670 poems by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
I gather my trepidation and the flashlight,
shoe-clad and socked,
unsure how this strange hunt began,
and feeling slightly sick.
Beam's light circling about my feet
to protect my susceptabilities from
skitterings, climbings and clingings,
I follow my daughter into the heat of
the Arizona night.
Plastic container and bare hand,
tools of the hunt,
flexed and held ready to strike
and imprison the victims of my dismay.
Garden's railroad tie wall approached,
gaps blackly cozy to our numerous
primordial prey,
shivers of disgust follow me
as we tense in the shadows,
lights flickering upon blackness of
rounded movement,
she yells
and swoops her naked hand down
into dirt and rocks, rising and leaping again
to head off escape as her aim attunes
to flight.
Casting the handful into the container,
laughing with childish glee at my unbelieving face,
this huntress of mine catches
the first cockroach,
for the 4H chickens!
Erin Moen
6/22/02
Wednesday, October 30, 2002
There was nothing those chickens liked better than fresh cockroaches! Quite abit of a shock to see their voraciousness...I miss them! :)
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My girls names are Caccaitore and Kiev
and i will read this to them tonight.
nice place in time to visit