Mosquito
_____________________________________________

She visits me when the lights are out,
when the sun is loving another
part of the world.

She passes through the net I sleep under     like
a cloud its holes are easily navigable.

Her buzzing tells me that
she doesn't want my legs     arms     cheeks
or chest.

No.

She craves adventure     wanting to travel through
the dark canal      the spiraling cave
where earthquakes are wind.

Her prize is in sight     the gelatinous mass controlling this machine.
How beautiful she thinks it is     her needle mouth
filling with water.

Her children will know physics     geometry      will understand
English     Spanish     perhaps Portuguese. They will be
haunted their whole lives by trees     guns
and a boom that won't cease.

She cries before drinking      the fluid is
salty-sweet. Oh if my mother had
done this for me      I would have lived.

From Approaching the Center by Myronn Hardy

New Issues Poetry & Prose, Western Michigan University, Dept. of English,
1903 W. Michigan Ave., Kalamazoo, MI 49008-5331
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