I see you, fly, poised on a basil leaf. 
You turn like a jet easing onto a runway 
to watch me watching you: 
you with your red seed eyes, 
I with my red-rimmed glasses. 

Why are you reviled? Yes, you walk 
on shit—there’s so much for you there! 
There’s less for you here on the basil’s 
green carpet, yet you stay and let me 
study your beauty: the iridescent 
green and gold of your back, 
the translucent panes of your wings, 
the jointed eyelash legs that must 
be clothed in some kind of velvet. 

You are a fine specimen, fly. 
I envy your power to walk on ceilings, 
to see all the way around, to spread 
those windowpane wings and lift off 
from velveteen legs and fly 
everywhere the air might hold you. 

Tamara Madison

is the author of the chapbooks The Belly Remembers (Pearl Editions) and Along the Fault Line (Picture Show Press, 2022), and three full-length volumes of poetry: Wild Domestic and Moraine (Pearl Editions, 2011 and 2017) and Morpheus Dips His Oar (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2023). Her work has appeared in A Year of Being Here, Chiron Review, ONE ART, Shelia-Na-Gig, The Worcester Review, Writer’s Almanac, Your Daily Poem and many other publications.

Author’s website:
https://tamaramadisonpoetry.com