the mosquito buzzes
close to your ear
its high
strained
whine
a warning
that soon
there will be a landing
a tapping
for your blood

milk
has been put on the grocery list
October’s calendar marked
for costume shopping
and zombie make-up
for your son
tomorrow’s lunch
is in tupperware
for your husband
you finally RSVP’d
to the party
and the dog
well, he’s by your side
as usual
napping like a cat
but ready to follow
in an instant
tail a-wag
and anxious
for the next exciting thing
with any movement made
from your chair

you are not sleeping
but not fully
awake
and dreams are distant
from where you sit
this morning

you know
you are no
zombie
and blood-suckers
are swooshed away
yes
you are
in costume
you
artist
dreamer
stardusted traveler
all dressed up
like a citizen
a mother
a wife