Apology
The fly does not know how to leave the bathroom even though the door is open. It flies into the shower, banging against the dirty glass doors, the frosted window, the cluster of hanging eucalyptus. Its buzzing sound makes me flinch and cover my ears, the vibration making my earlobes twinge. I admit to killing it with a folded magazine. The murder follows a heavy weeping, a crash into the depths of doubt that moves my mind to believe I am worthless. I feel guilty for my actions. Write in my journal. Breathe. Untie the knot of suffering tethering me to hurt something because I am hurting. I apologize aloud to the dead insect.
persistant purple aubrieta
grows in droughts
on slopes
VANESSA SHIELDS 