I don’t notice the fruit
Flies at first but they
Crowd the ceiling with their
Buzzing masses they

Swarm

Slowly straining, clinging
All legs and eyes and
Greed and I remember
At my work how there was

A man

Teeth so white in
His white face beaming
Down at me like the moon
And he asked me “Where

(/when/who/…)

Are you from?” and I
Said nothing just tilted
With the Earth on her
Axis tilted like a kid
In a carnival ride

Sickening

In my peace I said
I am from where you
Are not from (but
I did not say this

Really)

Overburdened vocal cords
Speaking a language
As foreign as his face
It is unnatural to be

So pale