the flies

2019

dad got concerned that mom hadn’t 

cashed the child support checks 

for three months 

you should go out more, he says

it’s not healthy, he says 

i hate him, she says. 

the putrid cloying stench of an apple melting away 

forts constructed of empty tupperwares

rising higher with the setting sun

the grating screams of one, two, forty-seven houseflies

the soundtrack of a falling apart 

it’s too much for you

hands over ears and lids shut tight. 

her words are the searing aftertaste 

of acid crawling up your throat

nostrils ablaze, eyes awash

you swallow that shit back down. 

the buzzing echoes

empty halls, empty hearts, empty dreams 

swarming black cacophony

torrent of torment 

bullet fragments in endless ricochet

piercing every

     thought

          breath

               whisper 

they’re fucking everywhere.  

i’ll get over it, she says

i’m healing, she says

i don’t need help, she says 

why don’t you help me? she says. 

you get over yourself and 

clean the kitchen until midnight

instead of doing homework

as if pristine countertops might guarantee​

something

​

you are so proud 

she says thank you.

but the flies are still buzzing