The mosquitoes are here.
Riding my bicycle
at the river,
they tick off my skin -
tiny sand-stone soldiers
in blanket swarms
falling away from my arms
and face
in the moist wind.
I narrow my eyes
and close my lips
when I see
the dot-cloud
but more often
I don’t see
until I am inside.
Ti-ti-ti-tic-ti-tic
Ti-ti-tic soft pin-
prick scratches
and then
the breeze.
sun sun
You and I who both know, light's the go-between of space and time. - J. Berger
1 comment:
shannon my dear, you portray those little vampire insects as if they are benevolent creatures. you would write a poem about mosquitoes. ps i really love the title- squitoes- how they say it in ohio!! love
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