A Gnat

By Gudrun Bortman

Curled in my leather chair I relish
a poem about wilderness,
while a midget of a fly nags my face,
nearly inhaled on the tide of my breath.

Incessant wheeze around my head—
I purse my lips, huff it away, sniffle
to rocket it off.    Still it persists,
now lights on the page—

I slam the book shut.
And there it is now—
right between huckleberries and bears.
Flattened.   A spread-winged black dot
like a tiny crucifix    pointed at me.

Gudrun Bortman grew up in Hamburg, Germany. She is an artist, garden designer and a poet. Her poems have been published in Sukoon Literary Magazine, Panoply, San Pedro River Review, Miramar and several anthologies published by Gunpowder Press. Her chapbook Fireweed was released in October 2018. Also from this poet: "My Man Buys in Bulk" and "Sun Gold, Black Pearl"