A boxed fly; a fly in an invisible box
bouncing against no surface at all.
The box expands and shrinks
all according to the fly's decision
of when it should change direction.
The fly spells out the words of the song,
And so I imagine a marble box, translucent.
I crave its attention and get emotional
over the fact that had I not been here
in this moment, I would have missed it
this silly magnetic dance of the prisoner:
the fly trapped in a marble box
of no surface at all.
But there was depth
and there was width in its flight
and that became the box
and when the box travelled on,
beyond the frame of my window pane,
I mourned -
There was nothing I could do to recapture my little prisoner
sitting inside my little box;
my double glazed glass display.