Tick

Cherry

By queen beatle

Sun, 26 Jan 2025
  • 960 reads
5 comments
 

I could wait

in the rough grass warts

that blotch the hill face

reddish in late light, or

 

I could nestle

in the dark space

between the mirror

and the bed.

 

But here I am

the parasitic fat sac

plump sucker drooping

from your keen wound

 

a lumpish leaden

nothing but

comforting presence

clamped onto crawling absence

 

too toothless now

to drop full off and

rasp fresh matter

from soft raw skin.

 

 

Certificate PG
Poem
my poems
Nature
Miscellaneous
Love
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)

Comments

Submitted by Ed Crane on

I hate the mother fuckers. Gave my dog Lyme disease. Nearly killed her, took years for her to recover.

Having said that great poem well deserved cherries!

 

Submitted by queen beatle on

Awh your poor pup. Ticks are horrible

 

Submitted by Tom Brown on

Old men with broken teeth stranded without love. Sometimes I sits an I thinks. Sometimes I just sits.

Beuatiful Morwenna, so sensitive! Tom

 

Submitted by queen beatle on

Thanks, Tom :)

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

A rather horrible subject! I hadn't realised they can live off-host. I wasn't sure of you meaning in

comforting presence clamped onto crawling absence

My mother's lodger, years ago, found a tick on the dog who'd just come back from kennels. She was very upset by it, and he teased her (their relationship was very good. He was like a son to her, doing jobs around the house) with inserting '—tic' words into the conversation. The finale was 'dog-ma-tic'! Rhiannon