My vampiric version of Donne's "The Flea"
The Flea
Consider how the flea sucks first at you
then nuzzles in your crotch, skips to your wife
and makes her cry out like she does in sex,
softly, with just a hint of pain. As you
purple your nail, consider that the life
you crush for sucking at your thighs and necks
is but a fleshly bottling of blood,
like you. Now spilled. Consider how the vintage
staining your skin fermented in this flea,
joining your wife and you, two bloods. Why should
a flea live hungering? There’s no advantage
in that. Consider then a thing like me.
I’m like a flea that innocently feeds.
That’s right. Put down the cross. I have my needs.
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