by Corey Don Mingura
Since the day you were hatched,
A portly maggot who fed on the lifeless,
Your fly mother and your fly father
Have been telling you to soar,
Not to stop until you are bathed in gold,
And you taste that lovely honey.
But you, like any other fly,
Prefer to be bathed in shit.
So, "No," you say,
"I'm quite content
On feces and flesh."
Yet they buzz on, and
Even Uncle Moshe and Aunt Mosca join in.
But before it all drives you mad,
Your cocoon luckily arrives,
Leaving you to your own thoughts,
Your body enclosed by auburn walls.
But your family's words
Echo in your head
Until you emerge as a full-grown fly,
And say, "Dear family,
I'm on my way
To the promised land
To have a taste."
So you do your best,
Flying higher and higher,
Until one day, you encounter paradise,
In a Southern summer house,
Those sticky rays
Descending around the light bulb sun
And you are almost blinded
By the flaxen hue that shines about you.
But when you rest to take a taste,
You're stuck forever.
Corey Don Mingura recently completed a MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Central Oklahoma in May 2011. His works of fiction, poetry, and poetry analysis have appeared in The Acentos Review, Westview, The Simms Review, and The Scissortale Review. He currently serves as the associate poetry editor for Arcadia. Mingura is a Mexican-American native of Hollis, Oklahoma.