A fly has dared to intrude upon our home
though we live eleven stories high
and what’s a crazy fly doing
elevating itself so?
Every now and then it buzzes by, quieter
than a mosquito’s dive-bomb whine,
less threatening but pesky.
Just as annoying.
Besides, we could make the public case
that it brings nasty outside germs
from garbage, dog waste,
polluted streams.
Wanting it gone unleashes the killer in me.
Armed, I mask, track its erratic path
which I lose, catch, lose
watch for it to land
displaying its unique pattern of wing veins
calling itself by some Latin name
proud of its wherewithal
to skirt my screens
while I take note how this lowly housefly
shows no we-the-people traits–
whiteness, Christianity.
Is it even male?
She has alighted on my kitchen counter.
Compound eyes kaleidoscope me
as her shortened short
life flashes by.
