The Joy of Nits
Headlouse dance as agile ballerinas across a small childs skull
And believe the truth as im only good at that
I havent seen one for a while
Its hard to confess
That i actually miss
Foriging the tresses of my little sprigs
Salivating
Eyes dancing
Hither and tither
To and fro
As if anyone would
Id always know
Where on earth the little devils would go
I know their lifecycle
Lifespan
And im ever so proud to admit that i can
Spot one
At fifty paces
(The safari Hunt!)
I used to settle down, comb at hand
I knew i was at it when i imagined
A safari hat
I was the hunter
Their stalker
Trapsing through the thick dark forestry of hair
Silent in deep excitement
'THERE! ' Ive got another one
Id chalk up the amounts
leaving bloodied squashed and squelched
Knits pon white tissue
A most satisfactory
Blood count
I was good, i was brilliant
A most efficient predator
of those nasty
Horrid little blood sucking beasts that chose to feast
On my childrens heads
Id gather up the population
Ensuring they were all
DEAD!
(Bet you scratched your head at least once whilst reading this)
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