Any insect I can hit with an ax,
With a body as big as a blueberry scone
And hairy, hinged legs,
Usually alights
Where an ax would
Shatter an iMac screen
Or cleave the top of a Chippendale desk.
Best to bring an appropriate weapon…
A food storage box
With a tight-fitting lid
And shuffle-quick hands
To cover and clamp,
And deposit it,
Against its considerable will,
In a toilet and flush…
But I shudder at the after-thought
That big as it was,
It might bob back up,
Seeking revenge.