Mercy
Mercy
I set a fly free today.
I’m not sure why.
I don’t like flies.
This one had flown down into the globe
of an oil lamp.
Fat and slow with winter
he couldn’t manufacture the momentum
to fly up and out the top.
Neither could he gain a foothold
on the slick glass sides
leading up the chimney and out.
I watched him for a while,
long enough to start to hope
he’d make it.
But he couldn’t.
So I jiggled the globe up about an inch.
The glass wall in front of him must have
seemed to disappear.
The fly wasted no time.
He buzzed through the gap
and made for the screen,
His prison now large enough
not to seem like one at all.
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