You hairy impertinent bag of water

You hairy impertinent bag of water
says the fly buzzing on my windowsill late in the fall
about to die

tumbling over in its agony
leave me alone for God's sake
leave me my pitiful dignity

The day is azure and breezy there outside
yet I cannot look away from the anguished
fly on the sooty windowsill











From Poetry Magazine, Volume 190, Number 2 May 2007. Used with permission.
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