tuck me in

bed bugs are attracted to warmth
which is almost sad 
i know that it's just some kind
of bodily impulse 
but maybe they're craving 
some kind of contact
pressing themselves
to skin at night
in the hopes of feeling warm
spreading out 
under sheets
finding leg & arm & finger
stepping with their thin insect limbs
over our full fleshy ones
soft comforter press 
the world under the mattress
a kind of matrix of bodies
crossing paths
whispering to each other 
will you tuck me in?
will you tuck me in?
not knowing what it means
it's just a phrase passed down 
over heard from humans 
though i never asked anyone to tuck me in
we slept in a bunk bed &
i'd just pulled the covers over me
making myself a clothe egg case
my brother rolled in the blankets 
a cocoon
i would ask him almost each night 
after mom or dad left 
are you asleep?
are you asleep?
& he would almost always be asleep
so i'd pull the covers tighter
around myself
as if that could keep the room's darkness 
from touching me
do they want skin like us?
houses? blood? beds?
somewhere there's a bed bug version 
of my brother & i 
in little bunk beds
& the older brother 
is asking the younger brother
are you asleep?
& the younger brother
repeats tuck me in tuck me in 
& the bed bugs have bed bug dreams
where we trade places entirely
humans on hands & knees
traversing the great bodies
of the insects
biting with our flimsy teeth
our bodies cold
their bodies so exciting & warm
humans under box springs
holding hands & singing 
the bed bugs tell us
to be quiet so we laugh 
& scatter ourselves across the insect's belongings
in couches & books & clothing
but despite all of that
we would still not be able 
to feel warmth 
& we'd return as we must to the bed room
to great bed bug 
sleeping there
sprawl ourselves out on his abdomen 
as he rests
my brother would be there with me,
already asleep in the folds of blankets 
as i lay awake
& pull a small corner of covers 
over my head