Mosquito

 
On the fine wire of her whine she walked, 
Unseen in the ominous bedroom dark. 
A traitor to her camoflage, she talked 
A thirsty blue streak distinct as a spark. 
I was to her a fragrant lake of blood 
From which she had to sip a drop or die. 
A reservoir, a lavish field of food, 
I lay awake, unconscious of my size. 

We seemed fair-matched opponents. Soft she dropped 
Down like an anchor on her thread of song. 
Her nose sank thankfully in; then I slapped 
At the sting on my arm, cunning and strong. 

A cunning, strong gargantua, I struck 
This lover pinned in the feast of my flesh 
Lulled by my blood, relaxed, half sated, stuck 
Engrossed in the gross rivers of myself.

Success! Without a cry the creature died, 
Became a fleck of fluff upon the sheet. 
The small welt of remorse subsides as side 
By side we, murderer and murdered, sleep.

            - John Updike