Outsider
The fly at dinner has one wing––
it cannot leave or lift.
Instinct for flight ingrained
––in fits and starts––hops and stumbles.
Privy to the chokehold of life, the zing,
these hands––prone to swat or shoo––
chauffeur the fly out––whence it came.
Instinct to care for a hapless thing.
~LCMH
