Flying

The lucky ones There was a fly upon the windowsill Of the rumbling yellow bus. The child glanced down with a shrug And ruled that it should live. I watched it try and try and try And try to get off the yellow bus But after what you had seen and done The glass separation loomed cold and hard. He was missing three legs: two on his left side, and another on his right And we must try to imagine But I can never feel You cannot understand What it hurts like to lose three legs Because you never even had three legs In the first place. What is it like to lose your wings? Only angels and fruit flies know. So if you, my fruit fly Someday find that you cannot leave the ground anymore Then I’ll reach in my pocket for some tissue paper And smother you, firmly, in my regretful fist full Of flies and angels and mice and men.