I tap the keys,
brush a few crumbs from the desk and smack my lips
in anticipation of eating
the snack of my people.
No air circulating or swimming around my ears
nothing but city pouring in from the night.
This millpond of stagnant refusing to drip
so much so I don’t at first notice the silent fly.
The silent fly is attached to my wall,
no amount of closeness or flapping hands can disturb
I watch him refuse to move for a minute
and return to my snack
and my work.
An hour later, I look up and he’s gone,
no more silent fly.
Until I turn to pull open my door
and he is there again, frozen halfway to the knob.
I reach for the door, palm up to swat him
and he doesn’t budge, not even a buzz.
I pinch my teeth and pucker my lips
ready to admit defeat.
But the silent fly doesn’t watch me move,
doesn’t crawl or zoom or careen.
The snack long gone and the keys at rest,
I scrub my face and cast off to bed.
The window still open, still waiting for breath,
I am alone without my fly once again.
Once my light is off, and I am finally feeling the breeze
washing away the last of my insomnia
I pull the sheet close, squeeze the pillow
and hear the fly finally unfreeze.