To the Mosquito

To the Mosquito

How soft upon me you alight
   To draw up nectar (scarlet meal)—
To siphon fluid from my frame
   From whatsoever vein you will ...

Well who am I to hold a grudge?
   Or who to shun your natural bent?
For I know nature made you such
   And that you have not ill intent.

But she has fashioned me as well
   With instinct and with quick reply—
A pass, I warn, to even kill
   What creatures might upon me vie.

So with that said, let this be clear:
   I harbor no antipathy ...
But should you seek out blood from here,
   Think not my wrath iniquity.