Demonic mosquito bites my arm <br />and sucks my blood. <br />Staring at the pernicious insect, <br />I become amused by its petulant bloodlust. <br /> <br /> <br />I suspect the reincarnation of <br />a late, despised uncle. Like most of <br />my relatives, the mosquito seems secure <br />in a smug solipsism, enabling it to drain <br />the life force fromeverything it encounters. <br /> <br /> <br />Raising my arm to the afternoon sun, I become <br />convinced this is indeed the return of Uncle Ray Paduchak. <br />I chuckle quietly as my blood transforms it <br />into a tiny red zeppelin. I bring my thumb down with <br />alacrity upon its gorged, greedy world. <br />A shit-eating grin creases my face. <br /> <br /> <br />Droplets of blood trickle across my sweaty forearm. <br />I walk to the bathroom. In the mirror above the sink <br />hides a stranger. He has stolen my face.<br /><br />David Kowalczyk<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-death-be-a-small-thing/
