My mother the DEET
Just couldn’t be beat
on those Spring and Summer days
When the ‘skeeters so fine
would fly in and dine
on my flesh and be eager to stay.
I would itch and twitch
and conjure like a witch
and try scratching the bites away.
But that would only make worse
their evil curse
brought on by these biters’ ways.
I still use it now
so I won’t be cowed
when those bloodsuckers come my way.
If only the taste
would not make my face
twist up and turn my spit to clay.
Bo, oh no, you say
that’s not the way
to apply this wonderful DEET.
It is not a delicacy —
plain, fried or fricasseed —
so from my meals it should retreat.
But it’s hard to apply
to my skin, though I try,
with these bags taped to my hands and feet.
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