The Flies of October

THE FLIES OF OCTOBER


The flies of October
have awkward wings,
what happens to them,
they change like the jaws
of salmon leaping
up the last time,
the body changes
on us, October,
the buzz they make
changes too, the angle
of their wings
controls the pitch
the lazy bebop
of dying time
makes them frantic
against the glass
they collide, fall
dodder on the windowsill,
come back full force
to find anything
over on the tabletop
lull juddering
on the edge of a book
the flies of October
cannot read,
even our hearts
are closed to them
just as ours are
to one another,
why do we hate them
so much, a dozen
of us lovers around
the table who don’t
know each other’s names
watch the flies of October
bother us
with all their dying,
other people’s lives
are such a pain
to be part of,
when they intrude
on the hollow place
inside us from which
every feeling
we thought we’d banished.


Robert Kelly

Posted over on Charlotte Mandell

from MAY DAY: Poems 2003-2005