Consider the fly

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

a poem I wrote while thinking about the houseflies that seem to spontaneously appear in the house, even over winter

Bluebotte-fly.jpgSometimes I think about flies
they're just a pestilence on this earth, right?
remind you of death, decay
remind you that maybe you weren't that dilligent about taking out the trash or
using up those bananas or
cleaning out the cat litter box or 
that you left the door open without closing the screen but
what if those flies really were 
reincarnated souls
reborn with something to say yet
they're driven by impulse, they're
driven by instinct
they have fly things to attend to
they're only supposed to live three days, right? but there's this thought
there's something else aside from dead flesh and 
leftover garbage
and wide open doors
there's this thought . . . and only three days to share it or it dies again
and again
and again
not like your other fly bodies are going to be any more forgiving!
So I try hard not to kill them while they're forming these thoughts
and maybe someday I'll catch one with a pen in its hand
great miracle for a fly
good job, you pass to the next incarnation
and now I get it!  thank you!
I might think you're disgusting, but I get it
it might be in some fly language, some hasty scribble
it might still be riddled with the language of an attention span tested by impulses and instinct and the maturity of a 3 day old creature but
it didn't die with you
at least it didn't die with you 
again?


Submitted: November 14, 2014

© Copyright 2021 Keisha Gamman. All rights reserved.

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