the fly

the fly on the wall

cried when you

turned away

not even bothering

to swat

at her beautiful

iridescent torso


she cried droplets

of blood

one by one

but they were trodden into

the library carpet as you

all strode by

an elated erudite cluster

the fly too round

too silent

too obtrusive

the only appropriate

treatment was to

put her on ignore


the few small words

she scratched with

unevenly sharpened

eyebrow pencil

appeared to yell so

she smeared them

with the application of a




no part of her was fit

for human consumption

this side of the grave

only posthumously

would she be given

a nod




for the author of State of Fragility

(clue to having a fun life: pay attention to the quiet people around you. include them in your games or quiet activities.)

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