Mosquito

What if you could move freely through darkness
with the ability to miss all slapping hands—
wouldn't you make that continuous raspberry sound,
blowing your own trumpet, slicing through wakefulness,
sleep, dream?
Only when pausing to drink is it defeated.
Dracula requires a stake through the heart by daybreak—
the mosquito, one self-punishing swipe bringing it back
to visibility: a smudge of ash on blood.