Mosquito

I don’t know if I am extremely sensitive or life is unbearable

- Vincent Van Gogh

six feet tickle my forearm, instinct says to swat

but I still and watch your proboscis plunge

my veins flow with backwash, tomorrow the

irritated skin will scream and nails will rake

and microscopic outbreaks will damage organs

the steady hands of the nurse drain me

into vials, my vision a centrifuge

orange juice, weak treatment for the

pressure that crushes my fever dreams

saline another failed solution for the heat

chirps and PA announcements

sing in my broken sleep like a chorus of whales

the smell of family and flowers diffuse

scattered voices whisper - resistant - parasite -

my spleen shivers beneath the protective sheets