‘Blood Suckers’ and other poems
By: Mary Bone
I carried them through deep brush
and high grass.
My paws try to scratch them out of my fur.
Ticks and fleas drain my energy.
A flea collar was attached to my neck.
This was my only relief from
an onslaught of freeloaders.
Fleas in the summer
are sticking to my skin.
Sprays and brushes aren’t working.
The infestation is in my house.
A bug bomb eradicated all the fleas.
My children picked out their pets
from a local shelter.
Unconditional love abounds.
In the windswept prairie
a high hat hangs.
Travelers see it when passing through.
Locals say the hat is a reminder
of those who went before
from a hard life in the west.
After not finding gold,
the high hat was full of dust
captured by many storms.
The hat hung high on a pole
Reminding people of all the blood, sweat and tears.