horsefly

1.20.2026

sole pink rose, foreshadowing.

last phone call, faltering

in only a color i can’t see, fear

like bleach dripping off the tip of the ice pick

as it unwittingly hedges

its last strike at the glacier (unity.

or glue.) it crumbles, sloshing at a horsefly’s

frequency -- or maybe it was me

distractedly playing the fly, imagining mobility

& a life too brief to entertain

consequence, fear, hope, (most of all) change.

nonetheless i did notice it. the next

evening, i noticed a second rose,

keeping her precursor company.