William Rudolph
Flies Swarming poetry

In this cafeteria flies swarm the recruiter’s cropped hair.

“One thing I hate—” he spits out—“flies!”

His dominant hand swipes the air. Pure reflex.

.

In this same room girls carry plastic babies, lifeless until

internal mechanisms inspire crying when

they haven’t been fed, haven’t slept, are jarred in some way.

...