The Mosquito Bite
By Mary Block
I said, trust me like the little dog has to,
having been so denatured. Having so little
to do with a wolf. Follow me
and make a home where the weather hums,
where the leaves grow monster-wide.
In a city slipping, feet-first, into the sea.
Like you I put my faith in larvicide and lizards,
in the tongues of frogs. I built a house
from salt and fossil shells.
Outside the bullfrog sings for his bride,
for the mouse and the limp-tailed rat.
The tail of a cat or some animal flicks
at the slats of our bedroom window.
I told our boy, in so many words, the fate of foxes.
I told him the tree frog is a friend—
that even poison has its place.
But still he woke with a red ring rising
from his side.
A ring of roses is either an amulet
or a nothing. Either way
I hung a wreath outside our door.
I said trust me like the little dog has to.
Trust me, son, to be the mother
that all soft animals require
and the little dog laughed.
