Wait

The Flies

The Flies Only two blinder-eyed flies in the vestibule. When I open the door, the flies go out, sparks in a sky of grease-streaks, car alarms.You go as you are called to her arms, to mine.This is how you hold a promise, hold your cells inside. Your body drifts in mine, does not leave a linger.When, the next day, there is a swirl of flies, I watch through the inside door. Hundreds hatch like dollars shot in air, nothing given sudden shape, humming their hope in the corners, tapping their legs against glass. I cannot leave without leaving a way in for them. Do you see now what I wanted? Do you think of my body winged? Fill me, as you promised. Find me trapped, and let the hundreds go, let the little ones outside. Bitter would not be bitter. My petal tongue would rise. Cloud, I drank you; you were mine.What of the flies? Poison slunk beneath the gate; I will give them halos. I will make them saints. -30- ...