Fumigate

I detoured to my apartment tonight,
Now big red tents,
Black patches, green compartments,
Spotlights humming.

Maybe yearning drew me
To the place I once barricaded,
Glued to my bed,
Eyes on the boarded window,
Like outside was bombing.

Only three men
In baggy, yellow suits,
Prepped for war,
Could send me skittering.

And there I was,
Newly enlightened,
Waiting to return.