A Case Of Lice

Was it lice or was it not, was really not too clear,

But just in case, even one, it would have to disappear,

So out came the vinegar and moisturizing cream,

Lice comb, tissues the complete delousing team,

Which was set to work to deport and uproot,

Anything not native to be given the boot,

And I realized as I went about this cleansing task,

That my true feelings were hard to mask,

How was I to manage a smile and not a grouch,

When all I wanted was the tele and the couch,

And I tugged and I searched, feeling itchy,

Shutting my mouth lest I sounded bitchy,

But why did I have to do this after ten at night,

Mother off duty versus a child’s inherent right,

And so I did it, although I could not see,

A lice or egg or anything that could possibly be,

But did I get a thank you or any such praise,

No, just that there were better more gentle ways,

And that I was hurting, sadist that I am,

Who said that being a mother is not glam,

The job finished, phantom lice not there,

I suggested cutting, not shaving the hair,

And amidst the cloud of indignation,

I crawled to bed with scratching resignation.

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