Shirtless in the Summer

I hate horseflies.

Someone told me recently

if you catch one,

take a small stick

or a toothpick

and shove it in their ass

it weighs them down

and the horsefly

will fly straight up.
The thing is
trying to fly
away from the pain
and can't fly
any way
but up.

I don’t know

if bugs have

anything like realization,

but there must be a moment

high above the trees

when none of the

impulses can be satisfied,

nothing to smell,

nowhere to land,

up and up and up

and there must be

some chemical overload

of a hundred bug thoughts

scrambling fear

confusion

as the freezing blue sky

becomes everything

fills your insect body

and there’s nothing to do

but tug up this enormous weight

and suffocate.

It’s that moment I wouldn’t wish on anybody,

not matter how many stupid times

you’ve bitten me.