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?