To A Mosquito

When I bring up my finger, little mosquito,
Threateningly over you,
I do not feel the power in my hands.
Helpless you lie on the tip of my finger:
One little touch would mix up your parts -¬
Or I could, by a maneuver,
Pluck out eye, leg, head, one by one.

I could do all these.
Yet your wonderful system¬ -
A whole universe of moving, feeling life
In my finger-nail:
I can hardly fathom,
Much less create.
So while I hold you to destroy,
I do not feel the power in my hands.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Brian Jani 27 June 2014
I wish we could erase those creatures off the page of existence.
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