Mosquito

You came to me, mosquito

Vampire in the flesh

legs long, mouth dry

maybe you were weary.

You left me alone.

It's winter, so I am covered.

All of me is hidden and so are

the other walking dead.

You float along, bobbing and weaving...

I imagine a mosquito prays 

something like a silent call

rippling out from its pen tip brain

knowing not fear, only want

and all its needs denied in this cold

by a troll or a clock or swat of the hand -

faceless and ferocious.

This too shall pass, but right now

I watch your wings drag

your empty stomach back out 

into the improbable,

toward the wide open door

between life and death.

Though you prick and suck me

On this good day, I bid you well.

I pray that you last this season 

and that we don't meet again.