Poem: Mosquitoes On Screen

 

Mosquitoes on Screen

 

honor loathes them, such tongues 

which bash into stitches of tin,

and their argot of bloodthirsty whines,

forever obsessive, sharp 

and lean.

it is whispered 

 

they once trusted too much.

too honest.

too intimate.

nothing left in the aftermath 

but a shriveled quest.

now dozens of these skinless wraiths

scrape a cold, threadbare sieve,

poking for any drop of warmth.

any aura of contact.

any meager touch.

before seeking comfort

in the dark.

===============

8/4/25 ... never right

10/6/24 eds  ... I am the mosquito

6/16/24 ... more edits, somehow fascinated by this poem but never getting 'the prestige'

8/28/22  significant mods ... never get it right