The Last Moment Poem by Gert Strydom

As a mosquito hangs buzzing in the air
while telling everybody of its approach
and with a predatory instinct
finds a landing zone,
it is powerless to comprehend
the last moment
when a raised hand
makes it just another blotch of blood and guts,

far too busy feeding, enjoying the nectar of life
in that instant it does not comprehend
that destiny enacted by mere man
comes down in a darkening slap
and maybe the darkness
which is eternally
makes everything around it fade to black,

but to this enemy of man,
there is no hesitation, demur and misgivings
of the price it has to pay
for its feeding act.