A fly mistook
My ear
For shelter
And it wasn’t even raining.

“Fly in there and die,”
I thought.
Lately I think too much about dying.

And as he tried to back out,
I heard him thunder
While I shouted,
Shook my head
And pounded my ear.

He rested a silent moment,
Then flew out the window
Into the June-blue sky.

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