Orange
Fly
A
ten millimetre fly
flew
onto the window at
fifteen
hundred hours
as
from its rest in Ashford Kent
the
blue train moved
the
fly
head
legs
back
belly (pale)
proboscii
(paler still)
and
wings translucent
was
in fact all over orange
as
we increased speed
the
fly seemed to position itself
aerodynamically
head
forward
feet
clutching the window
resolutely
history
evolution
I
put on my spectacles
science
of flies in extreme conditions
there
must be a name
for
this determination
to
hold on
as
the wind strengthened
so
did I’m sure its tiny adrenalin
how
would it breathe
battered
by motes of dust and pollen!
and
its grip is slipping
let
go I shouted
in
deafening silence
so
not upset fellow passengers
who
might have had
seizures
of anxiety
had
they come aware
of
the perilous predicament
of
the orange fly
unaccustomed
to
the seismic new
technologies
of travel
(no
longer the slow gait
of
plough and carriage)
as
it searches pastures new
and
now as the train
accelerates
again
its
eyes are closed
its
cheeks rippling in
the
ferocious slipstream
Oh
two of its legs
have
lost their purchase
Let
go I cried
soundlessly
again
my
body arched in sympathy
my
hands clenching
the
seat in front
and
moist eyes
reflecting
round its tiny form!
now
clinging
by
two legs only
go
home!
and
it was gone.
(©Emile Sercombe)
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