The Flies
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| "Fly" Watercolor on Paper By J. Artemus Gordon |
They clustered
on the living room windows
like escaped dreams.
As the day slid by,
their frenzy slowed to a study
of unreachable sky.
It was February.
How do flies happen in February?
Ask the leaky sink,
or the rackety freezer.
Or chase them
with a vacuum cleaner,
as my boys did,
waving its tube
like a magic wand
until the flies vanished
into sparks.
Poet’s Notes: A poem isn’t simply a cut and dry report of an event. We have newspapers and all sorts of other media for that. Yes, there were flies in my house one day. And yes, my sons used some questionable methods to try to get rid of said flies. But I think it’s only through poetic leaping that I can try to evoke the strangeness of what happened, along with the accompanying feelings.
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