Ode to that Gluttonous Mosquito

His stealth would make ninjas envious
His attack was swift and sure
He flew in below my radar
Staying close to the floor.

It was the end of his season,
He was the last of his kind.
With a voracious appetite,
He attacked multiple times.

Even after the symptoms started
I couldn’t find him there.
He was a crafty survivor.
He knew to hide just where

My view was blocked,
And so I thought, for sure it must be a flea.
Or a whole flea colony, perhaps.
I counted the bites past three.

In a moment of panic I tore at my skin,
Wondering how I became infested.
More bites appeared on the other side
Of my leg–I had been bested.

Until finally I gave up scratching,
And started to search for a cure
Something to kill the army of beasts
I was positive was lurking down there.

That’s when he finally revealed himself,
Slowly drifting away from the scene.
His wings could barely hold him up,
And his path was beginning to lean.

I watched the fat thing go,
Staring at him in shock.
He struggled to keep himself afloat
With his belly full of my stock.

I could almost hear him laugh at me,
And I knew he must be smiling.
I had never been so pleased to know
The shortness of life for a mosquito.



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