Flies I don’t know about flies. I don’t like to see a fly Wandering about in the air Outside a rabbit-hole, then going in. Somebody’s died down there. I don’t like to see a fly Tapping the eye ball And peering into the eye Of a cow stretched out in her stall. And I hate to feel a fly When I’m taking a snooze after lunch Walk to my mouth-corner – As if just checking a hunch. from the collection ‘What is the truth?