I’m sorry, God, I cannot love
The fly
No matter how I try.
Floaters, bloated on dead flesh
And faeces
Lovers of the stale and the excreted
A species
I wish could be deleted.
I’m sorry, God, but why oh why
Did you create
The common fly?
Spiders I can abide when they approach
At a push, not crush a scuttling roach
But the fly I hate to bits.
Brings out in me a deathwish.
Its.
I’m sorry, God, I cannot lie
This morning I a fly.
And it felt good.