Mummy-like I sleep atop my bed,
In sheet-shroud hemp, to save me from the mites,
Which creep inside my app' and feast the night
On flesh and fat,
And now retreated undenied,
They wait unseen, my sweet-oil limbs,
To tap my blood from top to toe,
While I in dream am numb to flow,
Maybe they sink into the nap of duvet, pillow,
Or some gap between the legs and wooden slats,
Which gather dust and harbour gnats,
And, once so fed they rest for days,
Before prepared to guzzle and gorge
The nectar of my honeyed veins,
Again the cause of so much pain,
So, whether these unsightly blotches
Come from micro-mite or other biting thing,
I hope this tight bound swaddling sack
Will keep me safe from next attack.
Jane Sharp 2004
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Jane Sharp has lived in Vrahassi, a mountain village in Crete, for the past sixteen years. She has been writing poetry for a lot longer. Her poems have been published in magazines, read on the B.B.C. and have won prizes.
