Midges

My poem for Today is managed in th’ main by
agonies one cannot contemplate with rational
ease - when fleas demand a meal you usually
deny th' rite & fight ‘em off, their plight as fleas
is we don't share this ‘sphere of commonality’ -
their place is off our skin & out of sight unless
we failed t’ put a trait in words t’ best describe
they have no place within our space; and that 

Betides a threat t’ all their kind - unless they've 

found an ally who will make us cogitate th’ ban;
and they’ve a cobber in the game we name th’
‘biting midge’ - a beast too small to see until its
bite begins to agonise - & even then you'll fail
t’ recognise as there’s no visual hob that says - 

Spray y’self with Deet or run away & find a fan: 
so it's th’ agony I’m Peasant of; but there’s no 
way I will comply with cruel rules they’d slave 
their targets to - I'll try & find another key to let 
th’ fleas attach ‘emselves to antifreeze, a just-
in-case scenario we breathe into th’ script, but

Bloody Biting Midges are adrift its rationality, t’ 
freely fly ‘n terrorise th’ Peons who they took a 
fancy to; either me or you it matters not a whit - 
you’re just a target who has discouraged fleas 
they’ll claim and therefore need t’ pay a price - 
altho we’ll argue its a separate case - and, 

Splice this plea t’ make th’ treaty nice; y’are 
a Regal midge not a bloody flea in case you 
never knew - & no - not even relative in any 
way, so hey, quit this tyranny; th’ problem is 
y’re f…ing hard t’ see - until y’ bite descries 
your size - and therein lies our quandary
© 11 February 2018, I. D. Carswell