by Pamela Wax
The ants
are marching
single
file, their annual
exodus across
faux-granite
counters, up
and down door
jambs, through
the sea of scraps
in my stainless
steel sink. I’ve
been told to kill
them, a stew
of sugar and boric
acid. A sweet,
merciful death.
But I can’t.
Not this year.
Especially not
this year. May all
who are hungry
come. Eat.
Pamela Wax is the author of Walking the Labyrinth(Main Street Rag, 2022) and Starter Mothers (Finishing Line Press, 2023). Her poems have received a Best of the Net nomination and awards from Crosswinds, Paterson Literary Review, Poets’ Billow, Oberon, and the Robinson Jeffers Tor House. Other publications include Barrow Street, Tupelo Quarterly, The Massachusetts Review, Chautauqua, The MacGuffin, Nimrod, Solstice, Mudfish, Connecticut River Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and Slippery Elm. An ordained rabbi, Pam offers spirituality and poetry workshops online and around the country. She lives in the Northern Berkshires of Massachusetts.
