To the Fly in My Coffee

The cup, abandoned in haste

and left on the counter

for whatever reason

looked inviting to you.

I’m not sure when you decided

to take the plunge into the

abyss of my forgotten beverage,

but in the evening I found you,

floating face-down in a swirl of

sugar free vanilla creamer.

I can’t help but wonder

about your final moments.

Did you slip away quietly

as your breathing organs

(I’m unfamiliar with

house fly anatomy)

filled with cold, bitter liquid?

Or did your brain explode

inside your head and your extremities

begin flailing?

Because that’s what happens to me

when I drink my coffee

because I like it strong.

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