Mosquito

John Leonard

 

I’m watching you, a blur of wings

And legs, floating around me —

I’m trying to brush you away,

Or grab and squash you.

 

Suddenly I see you’re on my hand,

Walking up my middle finger,

Testing with your feet, waving

Your proboscis thoughtfully.

 

I let you go on to find your spot —

A small sharp pain, and then

You’re sucking, white-banded rear legs

Held over your back.

 

Your transparent, black-striped body

Pulses, it seems to take forever

Until a dark finger of blood creeps

Along inside you.

 

You bloat, abdomen red now,

But once detached, you whiffle about,

Take two steps, as if to start

Feeding again.

 

No! You don’t need any more,

I don’t think you can fly! I puff

You away and you disappear across

Autumn garden-beds.

 

John Leonard was born in the UK and came to Australia in 1991. He has a PhD from the University of Queensland and was poetry editor of Overland from 2003 to 2007. He has five collections of poetry; the latest, A Spell, A Charm, was published by Hybrid Publishing in 2014. www.jleonard.net

1 reply

  1. I love the lightness of this – the careful observation, the boundaries and the extending of them.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: