The Bite

By Gladwin George

Hunched onto the mirror,

                                 the mosquito stood still -

                                 Was it admiring the coarse

                                 fabric of its carcass?

                                 Or the advent of the gloomy

                                 dusk which is more in tune 

                                 with its morbid intent?

                                 The long awaited milieu is set;

                                  it starts its perilous journey

                                 towards the victim -

                                 hovering around for a while

over the succulent mass, 

                                 finally it lands on a fertile plain

devoid of hairy skin, and 

                                 Deftly raising its proboscis ,

                                 strikes hard into the fleshy

                                 abyss of the hapless sleeper !

                                 It slakes its lips with gore,

                                 the sacrifice is done –

                                 Every night the ritual gets repeated;

                                 the hunter donning the friar`s hood

                                 purging the sins of the prey(cleansing him thus) 

                                 while the bleeder gets sated at will!

By Gladwin George