I watched a fly die today on the windowsill
his wings flapping, fluttering in short
spastic bursts of intense desperate beating
before silence descended upon the world again.
The hush encapsulated us, separated us, me and the fly--
just a pause to rest and gain strength for another attempt
watched a fly die today in the window track
body jerking in a gruesome way,
hops, at first level,
then upside down, then
however he fell.
I watched the event, without
the overwhelmed sympathy I was feeling.
I watched a fly die today in an artificial canyon
his short bursts of desperate flight
uttering many words that I could not articulate--
the vicious wish to live for one more night
beyond his allotted four and twenty hours.
I wished for things which lay beyond my powers.
I watched a fly die tonight
among dirt and other bodies,
alone but for
a human girl sitting silent in an armchair.
in its death, witnessed some same pathos
the hungry desperate greedy strips flayed
regard, without awareness from sole existence
a fly’s burst of futile flight, lost and without compare.