By: Paul S. Cilwa Viewed: 2/19/2019
Topics/Keywords: #Poetry Page Views: 899
A fight to the finish.
Fly

Around the breakfast table
On a cool September day,
A common housefly buzzing
—Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing—
A common housefly buzzing,
Where all the dishes lay.

Above the great milk puddles
And the Wheaties gone astray,
Above the kids' spilt orange juice
—Their orange juice, their orange juice—
Yes, where the kids spilt orange juice
On their way out to play.

I rolled my front page tightly
With its news of far away,
And I stalked that housefly buzzing
—Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing—
I stalked my housefly buzzing
Hoping he'd get in its way.

"I've got you now!" I shouted
In a manner fierce, yet gay,
As I rapped the paper rightly
—Heavily and sprightly—
I rapped the paper rightly
Upon the serving tray.

The sugar flew about me
In a frothy, creamy spray
As that nasty fly kept buzzing
—Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing—
That nasty fly kept buzzing
As if keeping me at bay!

I struck at each direction
That he settled on to play,
But that fly was just too nimble:
Escaping, yes, escaping,
Split seconds 'fore his dooming,
He simply flew away.

I knocked my coffee over
As I set into the fray;
Yet that filthy fly kept buzzing
—Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing—
The two-winged monster buzzing
While we danced our grim ballet.

And then a fit of clumsiness
I fear I did display,
As I swung a bit too wildly
—Wildly, much too wildly—
I swung a bit too wildly
Tripping on my feet of clay.

Yes, that's how my spouse found me.
On the floor, in disarray,
And he saw that damned fly buzzing
—Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing—
That ghastly creature buzzing
Near the corner where I lay.

"Oh, my God, my dear, what happened?"
Gasped my husband in dismay.
And I told him as he helped me up,
Picked me up, cleaned me up,
I told him as he helped me up
About my roundelay.

So we picked up all the remnants
Of the bloody tête-à-tête,
And we took out of the closet,
—Hidden safely from the children—
We took a can of bug-bomb and
We blew the beast away.