It is midge season again - an imposition in an
awareness one could easily bear without; tho’
things you can see scare within meaning they
wear invisibility auguring unwell - its an omen
if you will and until they actually bite you’ll still
claim folklore created the blight; o’ rest ye well
until the first itch flares were th’ myth rears its
irascible head into reality of an ugly red spot
wearing agonies of ages, you quote an epithet
you will when you bleed - cursing damn things
you can’t see to believe in, becoming one who
wagers these fears will bring a calamitous end
forever to the heterogeneous baring of skin
© 12 July 2014, I. D. Carswell
No comments:
Post a Comment