Mosquitoes’ Summer

Marin Careway

i’m afraid the grass is ready now.

thick carpet camouflage for humming mosquito teeth.

the earth falls up to swallow me.

did i say mosquito teeth?

i only meant i know when they laugh.

their teeth chatter.

i lie down, hair tangled with grass.

devour before i get devoured.

never alone.

my eyes and skin melt away with a setting sun.

i remain glued to the blue specks of the sky.

force myself not to hear the buzz-hum-flap.

when mosquitoes kiss,

i bet they’re not afraid.

their limbs don’t do what humans’ do.

summer is a sweaty traitor.

drenching me and tasting me and

trading me to insects for other bodies.

persephone wished to leave summer

because it was feasting season.

cerberus doesn’t let mosquitoes into the underworld.

i press my mouth to soil,

ignore the lone wing i find on my tongue,

and screech at hades and persephone to let me in.

i watch behind a window, hot dusk hot blood.

mosquitoes dancing with ladies, clinging to their ankles

like children dance on the feet of their fathers.

do you think mosquitoes bite each other for fun?

for hickeys, for hate, for that teeth-chatter giggle?

if i cover my ears, can i get them out of my head?