crawled from the rafters

From rot of sagging timber
they crawl now.
From festered knots
their feelers poke.
To test the air
is quite foul enough,
for without wretched smog
they’d choke.

They spit and hiss
their mandibles foam,
drip with yellowest bile.
Come forth claws
which pinch and tear
sow wounds
with the reek
of posion vile.

Pupae spawned,
long incubated
in the loft structures
of our house.
Kept fed and watered
by complacency,
these hideous
malformed louse.

Perhaps the only
saving grace
is that now
they rear their head,
we raise together
our clunking boot.
And all together
their venom is bled.

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