the itch

THE ITCH commenced
in the morning of my ass
deep or superficial I
could not discern

small relief happened
with the passing of gas
like a mini-vacation
or laugh track on the tube

for days a suspicion
of invisible bugs
had flooded my mind
tweaked my skin crazy

I sit and type
these war-torn thoughts
note the swift bite
wreaked piercing of skin

from time to time
there’s this sudden
ambush on a
vulnerable limb

as I send forth
my nearsighted
bleary-eyed scouts

who look-out for
ski-masked
black ants
and transparent
mites filled
with malicious
intent

secret harbingers
of worse, ongoing
assaults into
tight caves
of this worn
down body,

of that misfortune
I unfortunately
fear.