_
Resting in the scintillations of fireflies,
Cooling skin 'gainst purpling night,
Each hair, sentinel
to breathy kiss of mosquito wing.
This one,
settles on for blood-theft,
and with slow and practiced skill,
I murder her and future millions.
I kill a dozen ardent mothers,
and drop gray bodies
for morning's ants to take away.
Then no more come,
or I fail to notice.
And darkling night
is flecked and flashed with greenish gold
by beetle assignations.
_
