a lengthy buzz ricotches
between my eyes-
I hurtle from the bed
before the second splits,
lights on, shoe
in hand, manic
with mosquito possibility.
black comforter
is shrunk into a crack,
pillows launched into closet,
hands lusting to smash frantic,
too late. The itch,
the unbearable itch
pistoned into dwarf bumps
begins. Left arm, three bites.
Right arm, five. Forefinger
marred, my back
one big bug bite, pulsating
scratch down my veins.
I blanche and blotch pink,
speckled skin crawling
so fast it vibrates.
I can feel them on me,
one million tiny feet
caressing, digging
thirsty, penetration,
a well is spring
I lose myself, straws
sticking out into lips
red like I’ve never
seen before.

The windows are sealed.

I check under the bed.
Gestated swarm
fills my mouth,
I cough out MOSQUITO,
legs caught in my teeth
whole body surging
bug wave washes over me, clinging
to every vein. Three
fly up my ear
and my brain goes MOSQUITO
bones buzzing I claw wings
from my back, fly
through the crack in the door.

What is that light and why
is it so beautiful?
Where did all these legs
come from?
The itch
is gone.
But the thirst,
the incredible thirst.
I drink,
and I drink,
and I give nothing back.

One thought on “becoming

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