Fly-Bye on the Day of the Dead
That fly that chose to falter
for a minute on the altar
I’d constructed for my lover
should have made the choice to hover.
The worst choice of all
was to choose to land and crawl
attracting my attention
to a means of his detention.
Namely, to kill the squatter
with a switch of my fly swatter.
Though he was silent ever after,
no more soaring floor and rafter,
it was I who did the gasping,
for the bottle he was clasping
of my mourned-ones favorite drink
soared out to shatter in the sink.
Thus in the battle between darter
and me, he was the martyr
while I strained my funny bone
accepting actions to atone
by cleaning glass shards from the table
and all places I was able
to reach within the kitchen
without grumbling and bitchin’.
Then I quickly made a trip
to buy a sticky strip
so future flies would be defeated
and my actions not repeated.
Prompts For the Sunday Swirl Wordle 600
are: bones gasping strip switch shatters battle fly altar martyr bottle crawl falter
When the next big black fly that will alight
on that sticky trap but can not take flight
then I am sure he will send you a note
with a big black period to his quote.
I so enjoyed public speaking in school, but the one problem I had was when we had “pro or con discussions”, we had to choose between being pro or con extemporaneously. I look forward to a one on one meeting with you, on any given subject of your choice, only if I get to choose “pro” or “con” first. though I am afraid that one of us may drive the other crazy, so it may be a bad idea after all~!
You’ll have the next win. 😂
Canât cry over spilt milk either, even buttermilk!
Sent from my iPhone
Ah the stories of me and flies. It’s not the flies who do the damage. It’s usually me, trying to roust the fly — and my gracelessness gets in the way.