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.
