we were
cultivated slowly
we ate
and fasted
and rose
and fell
in wet
spring grass
to sustain
one mother.
i was
blind at
first to
the web
but wrapped
in her
beloved home
i see
that i
was here
all along.
i dont
remember how
i began.
overwhelming time
bogged my
brain and
convinced me
that there
was some
series of
events which
caused my
condition yet
when i
open my
eyes against
the blue
hanging above
there exists
but this
single purpose
in view.
to nurse
to feed
there is
no difference.
i writhed
for her.
crawled out
of dirt
and rot
for her.
and when
my wings
came in
my metamorphosis
now complete
i soared
and buzzed
for her
so she
could reap
the rewards
of homebuilding.
here is
a place
of care.
love is
imbued in
this trap
with strings
that praise
her true
caring nature.
its creation
is a
deed of
utmost kindness
that cannot
be overstated.
her power
to create
and nurse
and feed.
did she
use it
correctly? or
should the
silky glaze
of afterlife
and sickly
pheromones govern
our thoughts
and synapses
telling our
selves it
was right
that it
was even
desired a
little bit.
her venom
lapses memory
obfuscates real
and throws
over it
the shroud
of dreams
coddled with
the lie
that i
will forget
it all
very soon.
i can
feel the
strings twitch.
her needs
must be
met. but
nestled in
arboreal retreats
i wonder
why i
wanted to
fly this
close to
the sky
in the
first place.
i hope
she lives
for a
long time
housefly