Mosquito

At tonight's dVerse prompt, poetess and host Anna Montgomery asks us to try a poem that blends high and low art. It sounded fun so I gave it a good try--hope you can join in.

Mosquito

This worrisome mosquito,

                                                         grim demon

haunting the marshes, marauding round the heath

and the desolate fens,

restlessly buzzing

and biting, will not take

a hint

for my flesh is food

indeed, and my blood

is drink indeed

and she is hungry

for blood, the very wealth

of my life, so that her

own life might be sustained.

Some god or saint

may gladly give all,

may bow the head

for the life of the world

but I’m not ok with that.

So I swat and smack,

intent to kill, but she

evades and lands

once more.

                        This time, I let

her poke her proboscis

in deep, let her eat

her fill and swell up

big.

Cussed fellow-critters! Kick up de damndest row

as ever you can; fill your dam’ bellies

‘till dey bust—and den die.

With one hit I end

her meal, and am left with

my own blood on my hand.

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Not sure if I’m on the right track. The subject, biting mosquitoes, seems pretty “low art” to me. The italicized portions are quotes from what might be considered “high art” sources. The first is from Seamus Heaney’s translation of Beowulf; the next two are from the Gospel of St. John; the last is from Melville’s Moby Dick.