Humid Hiking [Poem]

My skin so hot and sticky,
Hair adhering messily
To my throat, chest, face.

Mosquitoes humming hungrily,
Low along the ground
(When will they land? Soon.)

My huffing, wheezing breath
Attracts them – they fly
Upwards, prick me, everywhere.

I slap ineffectually on my
Thighs, belly, face, neck,
Still they rise, a living cloud.

My flesh will be festooned
With their carcasses, ere long;
A walking towelette,
A moving sponge,
Is what I become.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s