Poetry Lovers: A Fly

 

A Fly

A fly,

Coming through the open window,

Uninvited, winged monster,

Darkly clothed,

And landing on my paper.

Its legs, thin and crossed,

Become linked

And, inked,

To the page.

As I write a story

About elements,

Seemingly,

Unnecessary,

In all creation,

Like the fly,

And the mosquito,

Touching,

The dead,

And the living,

And leaving,

In the end,

A bloody mess,

Of scraps and bones.

By Bernard Demaere