My question to God flies past the norm
Of ‘Are you real?’ or ‘Why do I exist?’
My question to God is one of utmost
Importance, and here it lies:
Lord, why did you make mosquitos?
No not the flies, God. Mosquitos:
Culicidae, blood suckers, vampire
Bugs armed with a proboscis to
Slurp hemocytes and heave saliva
Into my epidermis. Dear Lord,
You made citronella for which I give
Thanks, but Dear Lord! These things
Have got to go. Buzz, buzz, slurp
As soon as dusk drifts down. Always
Scavenging for naked skin to
Rip open and impale. Smack!
A handprint left on my thigh
With only bloody wings to
Reveal my attacker. Yet another
Soars to replace its brother.
Buzz, buzz, slurp, smack.
Oh, God, these mosquitos.
Why, why mosquitos?
The truth is that my brain has
Known the knowledge all this
Time: the little devils pollinate and
Provide food for trout and
Toads. Their creation was
Intended for a set purpose
When mine was for God’s
Enjoyment alone, and how
More enjoyable are humans
Than the little Culicidae?
Are we not greedy for others
Blood and assets? Are we not
Asking and whining and begging
For more than our share?
Are humans not overgrown
Mosquitos that rarely
Fulfill their intended fate?
I guess my question should
Be why me, God?
Why a human meant to bring you
Joy, who is more bothersome
Than your beloved mosquito?