|
"A Fly's Demise"
by Max PhineasLost for words
I stared at the spot where you'd briefly stopped
only to say hello
Afraid you'd think I was staring
I glued my eyes to that off-white stucco
As you continued on your path
A black fly traverses the uneven paint
a small indicator of your history
a witness to my dumbfounded paralysis
I clench my jaw tightly
Afraid it had been agape
You're not looking at me
but just in case...
Drumming frantically, I send flying a pencil into the open air, somersaulting tirelessly until it crashes; smears fly entrails against the wall. My witness is dead, your history erased, the off-white now beholden to a vomit-green smudge.
I sit and wonder
if you'll ever realize
I probably orphaned a fly family
because you carry with you a lump for my throat.
You're a vegetarian, aren't you?
04/15/2009 Author's Note: Oh the wonders of film class.
Posted on 04/15/2009
Copyright © 2024 Max Phineas
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/15/09 at 11:49 AM So much great imagery and language moving through this thing. It's definitely like a great, darkly humorous scene in a film. The last line, in particular, is a real killer. |
| Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 04/15/09 at 09:38 PM puts a whole new take on being the fly on the wall...nice imagery! |
| Posted by Richard D Frederick on 04/18/09 at 01:23 AM i'm thinking of trying to go to film school, but if it's just a cover for fly genocide i may reconsider. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 10/02/09 at 12:24 PM there is fodder for poetry where ever we look, up at a cloud, in a tree or perchance our gaze should fall on a wall where we espy a fly, proving it is not always the most noble and grandiose things in nature that egg us on to write but the wee and seeming inconsequential. |
|
