The Fly

I don’t know how it made it in
and I cannot get it to leave,
but there is the incessant,
endless grating buzzing
when it flings itself against
the lightbulb in my lamp.
Is it the warmth that draws it in,
enticing like a summer sun
coursing over its wings to
bring it some comfort?
Or is it the light, that shining
beacon of illumination
that encourages it to hie
closer and closer
like the slow seduction of
the first kiss, coming closer
and closer until lips meet?
The sound halts and I look over.
Has the creature found fulfillment?
Satisfaction in a 60 watt form?
And then the dance begins again.
Even for a housefly,
life cannot be so simple.


About E

Even as a child, I read voraciously. Writing has always been a natural outlet. Sometimes bordering on macabre or edgy, I was not always safe and even today I look at some of my writing and raise an eyebrow. Read me at your own risk. I am but a 30-something professional (don't ask a professional what, for I won't answer!) who spends nights as a dreamer and sometimes writer.
This entry was posted in 2015, environmental and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to The Fly

  1. Reblogged this on thecheekyhousewife and commented:
    I would kind of be reblogging her stuff everyday if not for my own attention seeking writing. I’m a little bit in love with her poetry. Girl crush commencing in 5. 4. 3. …..


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