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They are the first I've seen
Singing blood bank
Gyrating over every motionless
Lagoon, humming the song
Of disease. They carry
Sacks filled with your haemoglobin.
They are the only creatures
Of business—trade by barter:
Blood—made syringe
They prick and suck and off
They swagger after an applause.
They are just like their brother
The bee, never less busy.
Mosquitoes are the blood banks
