Mosquito's in My Room

Little buzzing mosquito, circles round my ear.
Bitter, fuzzy moth's eat clothes, 'til buzz sound fly's fear.
Wakes me up from sleeping land, to learn that bitten I
Take the poison's weeping plan, to burn like kitten tied.

As the poison courses through, my breathing gets real tight.
And the reason forces new, my seething body's fright.
What of now malaria, or other dread disease?
Can somehow diary solve, my Mother's deadened ease?

For she is numbed to our been, pretending I am dead.
Our be not numbered of kin, when sending wisdom read.
Wisdom isn't much a part, of our relationship.
His dumb insist such a wart, she'd rather sink our ship.

So mosquito's disease seems, to be my family's pain.
Still missing whole. Uneasy screams, seems happy flees again.
Having Barbara & Thomas; and Lloyd, John, Steve and Pat
Among the others in the past, employed as loving cast

Did soothe the pain of little Paul, in trying's comprehend.
Dead's losing refrain appall, of dying family's end.
But soothing isn't near enough, to end disease progress.
The losing wisdom here is rough, and bends to me regress.

The answer to mosquito's call, as she stings my skin
Is dancer's beautiful fall, as she sings heart's rain.
Though fallen far there from grace, of those who might have loved,
No sullen war from care displaced, can oppose new sight's love.


Mosquito's in My Room
by Loveson G. Flower
Thursday, 4:12 AM 9/25/97
in bed at Les Zeribas, Sanary sur Mer, France