Today I have three short poems for you. I wrote one back in March, and the other two, this week.
I’m reading in bed
in the early hours of the morning
because I can’t sleep,
and suddenly a mosquito appears.
I kill it with my thumb
against the background of
the article about the breakdown of the healthcare system in Italy,
so that its body,
filled with blood already drained from me,
is smooshed on my phone screen.
Birds on wet branches -
Dislodged by palmchats' breakfast,
Last night's raindrop falls.
fruit-punch colors, spiky thorns,