feast

i let the mosquito land
on my flesh. i tell him,
"give me pearls." he plants them
beneath skin. i want to follow
his drinking. swallow myself
until i am turned inside out. until
the sky is redder than red.
i see him work. his device,
his body & my body. the pearls
that will grow for days. turn hot
with fury of what was taken
& what was given. i do not know
why i permit this. i am disturbed
by my own inaction.
it is winter & i do not know
how a mosquito spawned 
& found his way into the bathroom.
he leaves me to talk to the light in the ceiling
like it is a god. the room is cold
& i cannot feel my feet.
i wonder if he feels cold too.
if when he landed on me,
he felt warmer.
quickly, i move to kill the creature.
his blood, my blood, a stain
on the white wall. i rub at it
but it won't go away. i think of
lady macbeth washing her hands.
i wash mine. already feel
the spot where the creature drank
throbbing on my arm.
the pearl growing. for me, beauty
is always like this. a buried
bloody thing. i wash my hands again.
look at the curtains of my cuticles.
cut my nails as short as i can.