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.

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