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Chemical Warfare 

The yellow jackets seek crevices,
openings in loose clapboards.

Yes, I kill them.
These are our walls. Inside
we read to children.

Yellow jackets practice trophallaxis.
They scavenge for protein, barter it
for sugar.

They are silhouettes that hover,
red in the late-day sky.

Have you heard a child before
he rounds the corner? He clutches
his hand, approaching, wailing.

Have you seen our murderous
selves, our perplexed vanity?

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