Caroliena Cabada
UNNATURAL INSTINCT
My instincts are the ones
I feed: billions of bacteria
in my gut tell me
to run. I stay instead
and sweat out the last
of my nectar. Something
about my genes is sweet—
mosquitoes love me.
They have always loved me,
ever since I sat in the field
behind the high school, near
the wood where the river
trickled through and formed
stagnant pools. I would
walk away every evening
with new topography, re-
shaped by histamine.
My instinct
has always been to let
others feed first. I am made by
what I have left.