SEASON OF THE FRUIT FLY
Tiny fly, circles waiting
My movement awakes wings
Sucked in to sweet ferment
The allure of sugar turned to alcohol
Circles and sits, hiding
In a dark corner I forgot
Sobering with daily fast
Not a drop to quench it's drying lips
Small body, small eyes
Fluttering weightless wings
Swarm to a stop, in an instant to settle
And eyes beady gaze onwards
Last of summer sun
Sustains the fruit flies
Crawling over everything
Lifespan of two wasted weeks
To end in hand clasp
Gripless and feeble
Curls to sleep
In eternal wanton needs
(written on the 5th October 2009)
(c) Shane Simmons 2009
Monday, 5 October 2009
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
