THE TICK'S FRET
I hesitate, Great God Up There,
Iím such a creep! But hear this prayer.
I ask you: Are your records
In judging ticksí eternal
Remember, weíre those parasites
That include chiggers, nits and mites.
(Too many, arenít we, Holy
Sometimes 3 million to an
Confuse us not with folks around,
Whose names resemble ours in sound:
Like hereTICS of some persuasion
Or even mysTICS on occasion.
That coterie of near namesakes
Are rightly damned for their mistakes!
We fret! Might we come to
For misperceived name recognition?
We know misguided heretics
Donít love the truth, like Catholics.
And mystics often end in
When they neglect their catechism.
Then ticks get daubed with the same paint
For things we never were and ainít!
(Can one be sentenced to
For pure guilt-by-association?)
So please, dear God, donít mix our name
With wild freethinkers without shame.
Youíll find us ticks believe
Whatever Dogma says is true.
from the forthcoming book Prayers of 100 Animals A to Z, by William Cleary