A handful of ants is a soothing thing.

Untitled Poem

Some ice cream that fell on the sidewalk
  Has gathered a huge swarm of ants.
    I scoop up a handful.
Each small as a sand grain, yet I baulk
  And think of them under my pants.
    Reflexes I conquer.
Once held, they are soothing, as I knew
  From each time I’d held them before.
    I pick them up often.
Yet instinct still fights what I oft do
  Ignoring experience’s lore
    Why is it so strong?