Mosquitoes in my bedroom

A subtle key to darkness
is the light beam carving webs and shadows…
an orb aglow, a book unread,
the scent of sparkled dust;
it is the questions I’ve been spared.

“Why can’t you sleep my dear?”,
she asks — her voice is sharp:
a knife on broken glass;
and she goes back to sleep and leaves
me stranded, seeking absolution.

The key is last year’s withered grass;
will this heatwave ever cease?
When out of nowhere —
a sole mosquito comes abuzz;
seeking gentle blood of mine.

Thus passes night — a ceaseless arc
of dark unlocked in twilight,
when in my mourning dreams unleashed
I face the edge of daylight… saved.

The dream (the bed) by Frida Kahlo

I host dVerse on MTB at dVerse on the subject of enjambment and punctuation. Join us at 3 PM EST.

August 2, 2018

27 responses to “Mosquitoes in my bedroom

  1. Saved and hopefully with not so many bites from that mosquito! Hope it gets cooler and you get relief from the heatwave!

    This was an interesting prompt, thanks Bjorn!

  2. I wasn’t expecting mosquitoes, Bjorn! I felt hot and restless reading your poem and I’ve got this to look forward to later on tonight. Oh these sleepless summer nights! I love the lines:
    ‘an orb aglow, a book unread,
    the scent of sparkled dust;
    it is the questions I’ve been spared’
    ‘Thus passes night — a ceaseless arc
    of dark unlocked in twilight’.

  3. Ah yes, after reading your sweaty poetic, I’m so grateful for our air conditioning–nothing worse than a sticky night of restless slumber. I get tyhat /smell of speckled dust/ every time I open the downstairs hall closet.

  4. Ah, you are blessed if there is reality in your lone mosquito. I come from a place where they are the state bird. You did a great job with the punctuation — it helped with the reading aloud.

  5. “Why can’t you sleep my dear?”,
    she asks — her voice is sharp:
    a knife on broken glass;

    Amazing descriptions. And i hope these nightshift buzzers wont be able to bite.

  6. I like the wordplay – mourning/morning dreams – nicely done. I like the resentment of the sleeper, too, and the frustration that comes through. It must be hard to sleep on those Scandinavian summer nights. Maybe you don’t need as much sleep?

  7. The pauses here worked so well–like someone reflecting upon–hmmm. . .not just the darkness, but something troubling–their mourning dreams and last summer? I really liked the descriptions and the word play of mourning/morning.
    And that mosquito! I’m the person who always gets bitten.

  8. This is a masterly poem that (sadly) becomes entangled in punctuation that’s not necessary. I’d love to see you rewrite this without the fussy stuff.

  9. Those long summer nights with the buzzing and the scratching-I remember them well. My brother and I (we were very small) used to scratch each other’s bites in the dark.

    Like I said at dVerse, I believe and use punctuation in my poetry but I’m never sure how much to use so I try to be brief. Misky makes a good point. How much is enough?

    The secret is to use enough so that it works to do what it’s meant to do I guess. Lol! Nice to be back writing.

  10. Pesky mosquitoes! I really like the second verse, especially “leaves
    me stranded, seeking absolution.” I often feel that way when my husband questions why I didn’t sleep.

  11. Being asked why you can’t sleep is bound to keep you awake, especially from a sharp tongue.

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