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