“I smooshed a little fruit fly…”

Monday, October 22, 2012

I smooshed a little fruit fly
a-floating through the air
between my clapping hands, I did,
and saw his wee corpse there
no larger than a dot of ink
upon my right ring finger
and washed my hands a-thoroughly
in soap and warm tap water
and dried them to near dryness
on a dish towel hanging over
a chair nearby—

                  and then, thought I,
perhaps I shoun’ta killed him:
perhaps he was the happy type
that floats about a kitchen
to bring a grin, a visage bright
and ward off human sadness.

But killing bugs I sometimes do
to exorcise my badness,
or I’d kill dogs and maybe men
and maybe all mankind—
this little fly, he took one, then,
to save lives—yours and mine.

3 Responses to ““I smooshed a little fruit fly…””

  1. Kim Says:

    Just got busted! I laughed at this (lol, as the kids would say) and an on-looker wanted to know why. “A poem,” said I.

  2. Eric Gage Says:

    Finally! A scenario of vicarious atonement that actually computes.

  3. Steve West Says:

    I’ll send a few your way/ to keep your badness all at bay/but I need them here I fear/ because I’m bad too – to be perfectly clear. Well, you made me laugh and wax badly poetic.


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