Writing Down the Fly

I have locked myself in my office with a vicious fly.  I'm not one to sit idly by and let this buzzing annoyance flit about the room distracting me into craziness.  So, I have decided to take a more active approach.  Fly, you will become my muse.... and then, I will hunt you down and kill you!

Locked together
once more,
I wait for you to slow
and land
and wait for your
sweet death.

The silence
of your landing,
a reprieve from confusion,
only mocks me more.

No sound,
no idea where you are,
but in this room.

Only
one
will
leave

alive.

When it is over,
I feel your static
body,
quivering a bit
in the tissue.
On last buzz
before I crunch
your body between
thumb and forefinger.

Good-bye!
You fought well.

Hey, I'm not claiming to be Poe, or Dickinson, or Yeats, but I write what is around me.... even if it is crappy writing, at least I am writing again.  Right?