Voices on the Wind Obscure Voices
The Dog Tick by James F. Gaines Black and immobile on the turquoise sheet, Sharp as a specimen, It squirmed alive in the tweezers’ jaws, Hard and unengorged, Not having fed on me. The repellent I’d spread on the puppy’s shoulders Had stranded it short of a meal. Here was a lesson before execution, Delivering into my hands the infinite pest. Fate turns a gnawing world to my advantage, Needful, as open eyes can best bespy Uncomplicated simple bites Amid the snarls of stalking days.