To the mosquito that hit my windshield last night
That splattered and oozed with all its might
Though I had to squint to see the yellow insides against a roaring glare
Does it comfort your family to know that I felt the blood you bore run over and wash me crimson clean?
Does it comfort my readers to know that this summer’s fruit punch will remain a red river in their veins a little while longer?
That is until your cousin comes for revenge at 65 miles per hour

To the bee squashed underfoot last week
That neatly stuck a dagger in my heel, rolled over, and died
Does this make you a fallen soldier?
Is your mother proud that you live on?
Personal specter to the Queen Bee
You both laughed as the bruise turned black and yellow

To the fly that fell from the lamp this morning
You know as well as I
In fly terms, that’s dropping from the sun to the face of the earth
Landing with a thud that no one heard
Only to be swept away by God’s hand in a paper towel
Does it settle your stomach to think of the good fight you put up?
To know you soared around a whole solar system before you had the misfortune of playing with fire?
I have no more tongues than a flicker