Three Entries from a Fly’s Diary by Cindy Song

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Three Entries from a Fly’s Diary

I touch people like a monsoon lover nestled in the folds of
shiny valleys. I touch them where the water runs dry, where
God settles down at night. Flit around a fruit market, pulp of
a ripe orange spilling out of velvet lips & splitting concrete.
I touch the fruit but they don’t touch me back. The papaya feels
like a slick leather forehead pulsing under my spindly black legs.

My mind can’t help but wander. It’s part of my nature like flight
& hunger. The birds have it good, they’re all up there digging
holes in space while I’m heavy & hunted like a goddamn whale.
Colors drip out my peripheral vision, blend together like mother’s
fingers as she weaves the spindle round & round, round & round.
Everything spins so fast & it feels a little like blindness.

When night comes, the lanterns descend & I’m scared the fire will
escape & swallow the sky. Look at these humans, look at their skin
glisten pale gold under artificial lights like ghosts, like skinned
scallops, bodies stacked on bodies, tide washing in & out, in & out.
My God, they tuck their secrets away so well: in the caves in their nose,
the hollow of their neck, the crevice between their legs. I hide so well
with their secrets but it’s such a shame there’s nowhere for them to hide.
The moon full & my stomach empty, yearning always yearning.

Cindy Song

Cindy Song is a high school junior from Rockville, Maryland. Her writing has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, Hollins University, and National Poetry Quarterly. When not writing, Cindy can usually be found baking cookies or learning the guitar. Twitter: @cindsong_