You should not have opened this box.
Now you will never be rid of me.
I am waiting underneath your fingernails
to infest your ants, your grubs, your skin.
I, assassin,
wound-maker without knife,
without teeth, slippery
body corpse-silent, I,
unremarkable ambush
predator, am part of a family business.
We will eat those termites for you. Your aphids
will watch their children burst open,
our muscles writhing
and pushing out from inside but be warned:
when I am done here, my cousins are coming for you.
Heartworm, hookworm.
Pinworms and whipworms too, if you’re into
that kind of thing. We hope you are.
We hope your blood vessels
are just a little kinky,
that you like it
when we get under your skin.