Flea Wars

I’ve entered into warfare and it’s started here today.
My tactics are just down-to-earth, a victory come what may.
Your time here, fleas, is numbered, my endeavour has commenced.
The writing’s clearly on wall, the fight will be intense.

You’ve noshed my legs and tasted blood, the spots are red and sore.
So now it’s time to bite the dust to even up the score.
The feasting frenzy will now stop, the nibbling will now cease,
I now pronounce hostility with no hope of any peace.

Your hopping days will end forthwith, the spray will see to that.
You needn’t think there’s sanctuary upon my sleeping cat.
For he has now been treated to rid him of you pests,
he’s no longer hosting parties for any unwanted guests.

The house has been both scoured and scrubbed, my fingers are now raw,
everywhere has been de-flead from the loft hatch to the floor.
All squidgy things and furnishings are washed and on the line,
those creepy-crawly, pesky bugs will have nowhere to dine.

I’m ready now with mop in hand, the spray’s all primed to go,
no clemency for the things that bite, no mercy to bestow.
So schlep elsewhere and clutter off, don’t darken our doorway.
It’s a flea free zone on red alert with the promise of more spray.

Teresa Harrison-Best