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Best Poems Written by David Brady

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Details | David Brady Poem

Flies Die By The Windows

I didn't ask for them to invade my prison-kingdom, 
Of zirconium, old oak and iron. 
Of wilting lavender on the windowsills.
For years I heard them but didn't see - 
The humming of the horse fly, boring
Into the orifice of my brain.
The chord of Lacewings, a storm in membranes.
Insecurities throbbed in waves.

The house fly, especially, nags at you.
Snagging at the fabric of your conscious.
The torturous locust.
Worse still the jab of the bot fly. 
The stab of its tongue. A tiny intruder.
Together, they pulled back the calm I constructed,
Baring a flea-bitten body, gasping for air.

They were more urgent then, at summer's end; 
When my isolation heightens.
Folding dutifully to the darkening light.
A tireless buzzing under the pillows. 
A faint tapping against glass.
Like thoughts continually deferred.
Lives adjourned.
Drops in a putrid broth.
I simply swatted them away.

And flies flail and twitch terribly when they die, 
And they always die by the windows, 
Where the air is freshest.
Under the murky glow of the new moon,
All their lives trying,
Unable to get through.

Copyright © David Brady | Year Posted 2017



Details | David Brady Poem

Outwards

Paper peels itself from the walls with ease
like leaves returning to the soil in curled 
fetal positions. 
Repressed energy then surges outwards, 
like glaciers parading their legacies 
to mountains in silent grief. 

While the rain taps in the valleys
on arid surfaces with propositions of life 
to molecular corpses, 
like dust returning in hopeful stupefaction 
to a taut epidermis. 

Air rips holes into itself all around
to expose a singularity of infinite density, 
where stars choose to return as 
black holes to burn 
the fuels that were once 
their own. 

And a nebula of memories 
will spill its ink onto the air
about the head of a man kneeling
in stupefaction,
like an enchantment. 
Diffusing outwards 
Life's intoxicating tragedy.

Copyright © David Brady | Year Posted 2017