I Found A Dead Fly In My Beard

and I do not know how long it had been there.
The sweet thing, nestled, clung to a follicle,
black, silent, minute, and a winged witness
to my words, my breath, my pulse, routing
along my jawline, neighbour to the food
I ate. Perhaps it even had a moment to share
the scent of my sandwich, the burn of mustard
through my skin. We were close, you and I,
and went together through most of a day.
In the morning, maybe, you found solace there,
comfort in my mess of bristle and hair, and passed
soon after. I half-thank the people I met today
for not telling me about your small, quiet presence.
There are not many things we share,
humans, animals, insects, and even, perhaps,
your last breath, the final, tiny seep, expelled
into mine, and I’ll carry you always from now.

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4 thoughts on “I Found A Dead Fly In My Beard

  1. A unique perspective and a touching tale. Modern science has revealed we carry billions of cells around with us that are not human , but many are essential for our well being . Years ago I had a sensitive friend who would not move a stone or rock since it may destroy some innocent creatures habitat.

    Liked by 1 person

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