How to Take a Life
A fly lands on my forefinger,
Buzzing and jumping, fascinated
With the plush expanse it crawls
Over. I stare—
No, I watch as it drones
Around the room.
Just for a moment, flat, hairy feet
Stretch toward my fingers,
Anxious to feel that soft mass on their
Soles again. And they do,
Land on the wrinkled knuckle of my thumb,
Straddling the ridges, perfectly still.
And at once, my hand slams to kill.
But where, now, is that buzzing?
That white noise to which I hummed?
Where, now, is that momentary contact
With something so unlike me, so alien,
That it died by the same hand it stood?
Distinguished Voices Poetry Prize, Finalist
Selected by Chen Chen
“The focus on the casual killing of a fly—full of rich detail—makes this poem a startling meditation on life, death, and power.” – Chen Chen