escapril

tough to be a bug: patron saint of fruit flies

between nukes and side-eye
i watch the fruit flies devour each other
there is something so delicious in their tiny wars
waging in a world that barely registers their presence

i could singlehandedly bring them peace
lay out the ripest
juiciest pear on the kitchen table
cut open
soft white insides inviting tiny eyes
together, hunger is their only adversary
their tiny fury turns into a feeding frenzy
i could be the patron saint of fruit flies
their giant goddess giving love without a thing in return
not a kiss or a single thank you
but i'd do it just because

it must be hard
having the world rest on your tiny wings
living moment to moment looking for your next meal
a pear is a mountain
a mountain is a planet
a planet isn't in your scope of understanding
and your eyes cannot comprehend
what gives you life and what life gives you
but you buzz along anyway
never thinking too much about any of this
for it to matter
i wish i were as small and as inconsequential
with a body buried in rotten fruit