2. the flies buzz all around

the flies buzz all around.
the city, a giant carcass, is covered in
a thick, black-blue cloud of them
bruising the sky like an accident.

my mother saw the twin towers fall from the front porch
where she Cassandra-ed my first love into ruin
​not knowing that from that day forward
i'd chase Trojan horses in search of someone like you

there is a breadcrumb trail of trash 
tracking my footprints back where we planted a white flag
i try to be neat with the mouths that i feed
but the flies still manage to find me

and when i dream, it's like years never passed
like these small towns were all snacks 
to the taste of our laughter when
in fact i'm much wiser than i was — yet,

i don't like to think we were an accident
and after all
why would the flies hover
over something that didn't use to breathe?