This poem is taken from Stand 237, 21(1) March - May 2023.
Flies Die by the Windows
I didn’t ask for them to invade my prison-kingdom
of zirconium, old oak and iron.
Of wilting lavender on the windowsills.
For years I heard but didn’t see:
the humming of the horse fly.
...
of zirconium, old oak and iron.
Of wilting lavender on the windowsills.
For years I heard but didn’t see:
the humming of the horse fly.
...
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