Catching flies

I do catch them
just like my mother did
I did not know why she didn’t just swat them
with the blue plastic swatter
when I was small.
Now I do not have a swatter
And my little girl tells our friends proudly
“No one can catch a house fly
better than Mummy”.
As I freeze in my tracks
my hand cupped, to catch a stray one,
in the moments it takes to settle on the gas knob,
I write another poem
or analyze why I do not want
a fly’s blood on my kitchen floor
and a smashed carcass
on a rolled newspaper,
why I respect its freedom
to live and fly about,
why I grab it from my space
and hurl it out
of the window
into another’s space.

©Reena Prasad 31st oct 2012

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