Demonic mosquito bites my arm
and sucks my blood.
Staring at the pernicious insect,
I become amused by its petulant bloodlust.


I suspect the reincarnation of
a late, despised uncle. Like most of
my relatives, the mosquito seems secure
in a smug solipsism, enabling it to drain
the life force fromeverything it encounters.


Raising my arm to the afternoon sun, I become
convinced this is indeed the return of Uncle Ray Paduchak.
I chuckle quietly as my blood transforms it
into a tiny red zeppelin. I bring my thumb down with
alacrity upon its gorged, greedy world.
A shit-eating grin creases my face.


Droplets of blood trickle across my sweaty forearm.
I walk to the bathroom. In the mirror above the sink
hides a stranger. He has stolen my face.

David Kowalczyk

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-death-be-a-small-thing/