Honey Flies
- Honey Flies
it has me.
it has me in pictures in histories in searchesit has me frozen into statuses and blog posts and chat logs some small sticky substance (like you’d find on flypaper) i got on my hands and never washed off.it has me in belongings though that’s my own fault and i could chew through them if needed.it has me in the fly that buzzes with incessant need (i die a little every time) if i silence the buzz it rings if i cut the ring it cries with silent guilt from angry voices within [End Page 65] demanding why i didn’t answer didn’t respond didn’t botherit has me in papers in signatures in documents i didn’t have much choice but to fill out with a name a location a ten-digit number supposed to stand in place of me staples of society stuck cleanly through my clothes and then my wristsit has me in loans in payments in debt worse in jobs in money in needit has me every time i hand over a bill to pay for food for shelter for friends worse when i have to use a card.
i wonder if it had Walden of course it did that’s a place
it has me in physics in spaces in every cell of my body like a fly stuck in honey (did you know they all [End Page 66] die and get replaced at some point)it has me in curves in skin in veins like cord to keep me tied in here little knots hidden under a cloth faint blue and barely seen.it has me in synapses in dendrites in frontal lobes worse in serotonin in dopamine in norepinephrine or more specifically an imbalance of them that has me off kilter off walls off ledges on meds.it has me most of all in clocks in arms wrapped around my waist in hands around my neck in faces staring into mine
digitally it’s even worse.
it has me in soft glows to put me to sleep in morning shrieks to wake me in sliced lines that switch to siphon away seconds minutes hours years i wonder if i could break it off my wrists and reach my hands into its face i wonder if the numbers [End Page 67] would cut me slice me as i strangled it and they switched switched switched
it wouldn’t do any good. without clocks still
it has me in a planet hurtling in a frenzied spinning in a fly that breeds and dies and livesit has me in cosmos in black holes in evolutionit has me in coffins in placenta in lipstickit has me in trapsit has me by the mouthit has me by the hand
and it will have me when i am dead. [End Page 68]
H. Lynnette Barr is a communication and writing student in Denver, who writes poetry, sketch comedy, angry essays on pop culture, and weekly blog posts. She also performs in an improv theatre troupe and teaches at a community-based youth theater. Her hobbies include mimicking human speech and coughing at the symphony.
