artwork: ralph murre
Diptera
by
Mary Wehner
Black
fly in the wedge of bark,
thin
wings resting—
body,
boneless still.
Difficult
life, that of a fly,
picking
through shit,
starved
for the sweet in the stubble.
Believe
you me,
I
too see with a bulged eye,
I
too want to step firmly
in
the warm decay,
suck
the heart from whatever I find.
O
Speck!
Ready
yourself for flight.
Pity
me my grounding.
~ previously published in “…or the opposite” (Red Hydra Press)
