the mayfly sinks slowly

--dripping pretty acids into the pond we played in as children

(aren’t we still children? are we?)

he smiles gleefully at his pet project and my stomach rolls

to the tune of his laughter

swift and silver rolling down my throat oh doctor doctor

gonna take my temperature with this mercury thermometer

perhaps he will graduate and move on to greater things

--mice and rats and squirrels, climbing up the ladder of the

order mammilla

where at the top lies crowned homo sapiens sapiens

the knife-glint in his eyes is sharp

oh it kisses my neck, cold steel is an aphrodisiac only

we could discover in our muted fumbling

he’s a brilliant boy, he’ll skip grades and graduate

before I wipe the past from my eyes

and behind my lids is a moving pictures show of

the dead and dying and his prettyboyblue eyes laughing, laughing

I catch the flight instinct in my throat like a fly in a web

(it isn’t but the analogy lingers darkly)

and shift towards him with the wind because

animals can smell

fear