Requiem for a HouseflyI apologize, fly. I've extinguished your life
With a flick of my wrist. Trust me, things
Could be worse. You have flown through
These rooms, wholly free, without worries,
Then died so abruptly you never felt pain.
Life is different for humans. We age
And we suffer. I rub my wrist now, having
Swung several times before blowing your guts
From your little black body, but, as the years
Pass, I'll persist. There's not much likelihood
That a car or someone with pistol will slay
Me. I'll simply grow older, grow weaker,
And finally, bed-ridden, hopeless, expire.
That's not a nice thought. I'd rather be
Smashed, as you've been, by an agent
Too large to perceive, a fate which, though
Cruel, seems quite a bit better than what's
Apt to happen to me.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 32 times
Written on 2021-09-19 at 11:25
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