the fly carcass stuck
on wall ten years monument
to a life well lived

𝘖𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴,
𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦?
𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴,
𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦?
𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥
𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?
𝘖𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩
𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦,
𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳,
𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥

𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳,
𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰?
𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵
𝘍𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶

You don't have to be a baby
for it to be okay if you want to cry.
You don't have to be a pilot if you want to fly. You don't have to be a star if you want to shine. Just have the courage to be yourself, and all these things and more will come to you in time.

in my bones there is a rattling

inside there are flies
they lay their eggs in my hope and love and all the warm wet feelings i have
the eggs hatch, the maggots feast, the flies grow up, and then they die

"theres a rattling in my bones," i say
the doctor does not look up from his papers
"perhaps," my stomach tightens and i feel the maggots bite into me
"you just need to lose some weight?"
i thank the doctor for his time again
he does not bother to notice my jaundice
nor the stench of rotting fruit

each step sounds like jingling keys
i found fear in the sound once, and then comfort
some days i barely hear it
some days its so loud i cant hear anything else
maybe one day itll go away
or at least stay a consistent volume
until then i do not walk

"my bones," i tell the doctor.
"they're fine." he tells me
i ball my hands into shaking fists
the corpses of flies bounce around inside my knuckles
can he hear the noise?
can he hear the rattling?

in my mind i beat the doctor
his skin is split and his bones are broken
i eat the marrow
my wings vibrate behind me
i lay my eggs in his hope and love and all his warm wet feelings
and curse him to live like me

outside i smile
i thank the doctor for his time again
and i leave

You fly off
Head held high

Soaring through disarray
Cutting a clear path straight down the middle of the chaos

Reaching unbelievable
Untouchable
Destinations

Past cloud 8
All the way to 9 and 10

(In memory of Norris Hickey 1935-2014)

Love of family and fly-fishing: twin tributaries flowed
into your heart like a braided river.
Paradoxically, a sociable man who preferred to be alone
on some braided river,
basking in the peace of the wilderness,
hearing only birdsong and the gentle whirr of the fly line,
its nylon whipping to where you hoped the fish would rise.
Patience comes easily in peaceful surroundings,
unlike waiting for the blessing of grandchildren.
Eventually rewarded with five blessings.
You always said what a lucky man you were.
I’m glad your luck held because you would weep to see
your precious braided rivers drying up down here,
****** dry by the farmers’ greed for white gold
and the threatened tarāpunga (Black-billed gulls)
getting their nests crushed by callous four-wheel drives.
It would be enough to make your big, generous heart burst.

© Andrew M. Bell

Only in Paris

waltzes a fly like flies are --


twirling in Paris.