Wednesday, June 07, 2006

What's the buzz?


In your dream there is that buzzing sound
near your ear.
They know when you are most vulnerable,
a forearm on top of a blanket,
A leg sticking out of the sheets, seeking the cool
night air.

In the dark tile of the ceiling they wait for
their primi to be served
gliding down the thick column of carbon dioxide
to the warm pulsing
landscape that gives them their only happiness:
stabbing, sucking.

Rising up with red dots, the record of their
night’s menu,
You might be lucky enough to catch a glimpse
of one in your periphery
Loaded with the night’s work, attracted by the
bathroom light.

Slow after a full meal, an easy target
trying to go home,
You miss the first, the second try; the third
hits home
Leaving a red streak on the white wall with
your DNA written all over it.

William Padgett, 8 June 2005

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