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Contents


Fly in the Window

A fly crawls down the window
between East Colfax Avenue and me.
Butter, preternaturally yellow,
fails to melt on pancakes like dough.
Coffee's good  though.
I was on my fourth cup,
ready to drink it up and be gone.
Observations had been dropping
of their own weight
all morning long.
Sailing through blackness,
landing somewhere,
vaguely liquid and hollow
the obfuscation of the heart's crystalline nature.
To inevitably follow:
the fungus that would grow on the brain.
The sun began to warm my  hand through
the windowpane,
the fly buzzed off somewhere.
I began to hear
the contented clink of cups on saucers
and the soft chatter of the regulars
unfolding their day
like the morning papers.

Suddenly, all weight of decision
is lifted from me.
Today is a good day
to pursue wisps of poems
through the city
on foot. . . .


© COPYRIGHT 2015. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
  • Home
  • Genevieve Freeman
  • Les Reed
  • Carolyn Reed
  • Darcy Reed
  • David Allen Reed
  • Blog
  • Ouji
  • that's just what you think
  • the girl who couldn
  • theodore
  • Flash Fiction
  • Facing Music
  • The Coat
  • Sorry Sweetheart
  • The Listener
  • Resistance
  • Poetry by Carolyn Reed
  • Emblematic
  • Poetalk
  • Ensenada
  • Maternity
  • Mother's Day
  • Union Station
  • Having Never Flown
  • William from the res
  • To the Forest
  • Cuneiform
  • The House of Tofu
  • The Bubble Angel