why I hate rural living part 1

or
the nights are getting long


it is that time of the year when I want to go to bed
early to read, wait for the world to stop moving,
stew in my own juices but the flies have come inside

or were born inside just now (I can’t remember
their life-span) but somehow they weren’t
here for the summer, I slept well then

the desperate erratic frantic buzzes in the shade
of my reading lamp begin to resonate with the
buzzing in my head, a disturbing distortion develops

and one night last week when I needed the silence
I found myself with a ferocious desire to stop
the relentless cacophony so leaping naked

I wielded my weapon, my bra – it was the thing
I had at hand when I realized they remained
before I crawled into the sheets opened my book

slipped away