This Is My Blood: A Liturgy
for Brother Mosquito

A pest at best, an enemy.
Detest is all I get from thee.
My life for you is no concern.
My death is what you seem to yearn.

“After the Fall they must have come,
for God created no such scum.”
Or so you say to justify
that on this day that I must die.

The blood of you and others be
mingled jointly inside of me.
’Tis true if you like it or not.
Or Donne’s “The Flea” hast thou forgot?