I swallowed a fly,
And my vegetarianism broke
Like a back bearing too much weight.
It flows, goes down
And I picture it; a dead groin
A living virus,
Making me a cannibal.
A small glitch in my large system,
Black. 6-legged disease-filled joy
Makes each cough and air a trial,
Will it bite my tonsil?
Will my intestines turn into children of flies?
Until marching out a gout, a bout
Of pale flubber leaves my mouth.
But no. It will not go down. I swallow,
But still there, he is still there.
I’ve swallowed many,
I’ve swalloed none
They do not go to my belly.
Their ghosts
Billow as I blink, back into the gusty wind
Up, up.
Permanent – the grey stains on the colours of
My eyes.
Eloise 