Sunday, 11 September 2011

King Fly

King Fly

Cup of tea. Milk jug.
Sugar bowl. Lift lid.
Big surprise.
Big fly.
Humungous fly.
King Fly.
Rubbing at a sugar grain,
Like a lamp in Aladdin's cave
King Fly.
Hiding there for days and weeks,
As one of Darwin's winning suites
King fly.
Growing as the pile shrinks,
In bulbous eyes white crystal glints
King Fly.
Refract a kaleidoscope of sin,
Lord of all that's saccharine
King Fly.
And from the depths of sweet decay:
"Bit busy here, can you go away?"

Anya Pearson

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