The parasite knows how to hide in plain view-
between toes, between tax codes,
middle of the Mid-Atlantic back you forgot to check.
Little wounds behind kneecaps, unnoticed.  

Great entertainment, they said
TV show spray tan, a few shady deals,
some plane rides to that private island with little girls who ‘like’ it.
They said, Rules are for suckers, I take what I want.

They all laughed at the comic vampire of Wall Street,
offered bare throats to his pudgy hands, puckered lips
grabbing, swelling, sucking ruby life from undefended veins.
He’ll make us great again.  

Once the rash appeared, it was already too late.
They thought the fever was a sign from heaven,
boasted that their bullseye of rancid infection radiating inward from limbs to core was a
mark of blessing.  A miraculous pox!  

In devolutionary marvel they hail him- Beneficent! Godly! Golden!
Now bleeding themselves as tribute to a conquering king they conjured.
Welcoming in the ravenous kindred cohort- flea, leech, mite, worm-
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!     

In his throne room the tick feasts undisturbed
bloating and gloating, arteries clogging
pushing today’s coagulations around his big-boy plate.
Gaping orange sinkhole belches, bored again ‘til the next fresh bite.   

Iron supplements for anemia- on sale now!