They got to her
The second generation was getting ready to hatch
She got the matches
Surely the licking flames would rid her of them
Once and for all

People came with pails of water
Tossed upon the angry flames
She shook her fists
As the ground sizzled
And popped

The mattress had only a few singe marks on it.
The empty spray cans
Of bug repellent and bug killer
Rested on the melted rug
Her nightstand stood mere charred wood

Careful not to burn her bare feet
Looking downward, she saw it
Out of the blackened rubble
Crawled
An earwig