Marsha Blitzer
NITS

The native mums told me it was inevitable,
……………………………………………………..nobody’s fault.
………………..In the changing room
………………………..……………………………they swapped
………………..uniform jumpers and caps.
Soon I saw my sons scratching their skulls.
………………..Sesame seeds,

each louse

……………………………………………………..had claws attached to hair
………………..where it was warmest—
……………………………………………………..the nape of the neck
………………..or around the ears.
They laid nits,
………………..ten or so a day.

The brown pinheads hatched,
……………………………………………………..first into nymphs,
………………..then adults — left behind empty egg cases
……………………………………………………..glued on. Neat rows
clung with military precision
………………..to the shafts.

Mother swore by mayonnaise
……………………………………………………..to suffocate the tiny
………………..wingless insects, or vinegar
……………………………………………………..to dehydrate them.
Gasoline or kerosene, a less acceptable
………………..alternative, even for her.

I chose disinfecting shampoo,
……………………………………………………..used a fine-toothed
………………..comb to tease them out
……………………………………………………..at night – parsed one section
then the next, egg by egg,
………………..each strand of hair.

We talked about the day at school,
………………..missing Dad,
……………………………………………………at work in America.
Before bed, I soused them
……………………………………..in lavender oil,
their stuffed animals,
………………..too.

Marsha Blitzer has published poems in The American Journal of Poetry, The Banyan Review, and 166 Palms. An alumna of Sarah Lawrence, she completed the coursework for a PhD in Russian Literature and Linguistics from Georgetown and holds a JD and a MS in Education. She has practiced law in Moscow and London and now lives with her husband in Tucson, Arizona.

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