Mosquito Poems

Come to me, my little
Friend
For soon you shall die.
Right between your waiting meal
Of delicious human-blood pie.

—//—

If it bites my toe
I'm gonna kill it
And why is there a moth
In my room?

—//—

They are smeared all over
The spread
Of my once-turquoise bed
But that's okay
Cuz at least I know
They're dead.

—//—

Punching the wall?
No, dear—
I'm punching the bug.