KILLING BUZZ
//
i killed a fly this afternoon
and the way i felt
as i watched it die,
as i watched it squirm,
as i watched it writhe
in pain, buzzing in
circles that constricted
and tightened, until
it was on it's back,
legs twitching, wings
aquiver,
as i watched the life
leak from its body,
the way i felt,
the way i felt -
incomparable.
YOU ARE READING
Ghosts Lost & Winter Found
Poetrywhen you steal all that's evil and bury it underground: these are our ghosts lost and this is our winter found. collected poems from 2017 [ © 2017 by shaye ]
