Bedbug

Dreams bubble out your lips—

a-hunting you go—

            plip, plip, plip…

I pull blankets, groan and itch,

scrawny bitch.

In dream, what your tongue gets at,

strong as your breath

Scrat, scrat, scrat…

Your powdered self makes me wheeze.

There’ve been fleas.

Dreaming, you begin to bark,

fearsome, feral—

            quark, quark, quark…

You are midnight’s burping duck—

I wake—the fuck?

You stir, feeling sticky,

give an earthquake:

            ricky, ricky, ricky…

Next time, our bug will have her crate.

This time, too late.