The last fly of summer

In the stillness afterwards
they saw a sea between them growing,
listening to a drowsy fly —
bouncing against the window pane.

He opened up the window
to let a breeze release the fly;
she closed her eyes, sensed a scent of nought.
She didn’t hear him leaving,
but knew she never cared for summer.

Kim want’s us to write about insects at toads. There is something utterly melancholic in the desperate sound of a fly bouncing against a window-pane.
Also linking to hedge 55, and poetry pantry.

May 26, 2018

34 responses to “The last fly of summer

  1. Oh yes, you’ve captured that essence of melancholy, that senseless trapped feeling, the need to let it go, or crush it. (the fly) And then, the closing two lines just add that shattering impact – except, it’s just enough to think ” does she or doesn’t she care?” – I really appreciate the ambiguity. Well done and certainly, I wasn’t expecting a 55 – but this really works as one.

  2. The fly against the window, the ever-widening sea as two pursue their different courses, overall indeed, a great sense of melancholy here, Bjorn. ‘a scent of nought’ seems especially apt. I too, dislike the summer, even though winter kills flies and other living things…thanks for adding your words to the 55.

  3. Yes, the last fly of summer signals that the warmth is dying and the cold is birthing. It always seems on that one sleepless night that there is always that last trapped fly wanting to escape out into the blackness. Wonderful poem of deep melancholy.

  4. That fly against the window is a pitiful creature as is a bird trapped in the garage. This one even though afraid may have been better off inside. The fly goes on instinct a part of which tries to find dead or dying blood carrying animal into which it will plant it’s eggs.


  5. Your poem has made me downhearted on a beautiful sunny morning, Bjorn, successful in its capturing of the ‘sea between them growing’ to the sound of the ‘drowsy fly / bouncing against the window pane. There’s hope of a lift in tone when the breeze releases the fly, but the final lines make you wonder if they ever saw each other again.

  6. Luv the appreance and departure of the fly as an extention of thought of both players in thid tiny drama


  7. Such a brilliant capture of a moment, by beginning the moment after. i felt the tension of the scene most intently.

  8. kaykuala

    She didn’t hear him leaving,
    but knew she never cared for summer.

    A distraction on what could have been a wonderful time together!


  9. I love how you associate distance between two people growing with the release of a fly… truly evocative 💜

  10. Oh the sadness in this…the flies on the window, the breakup – all intertwined so evocatively in this poem.

  11. Masterful how this is totally not about the fly while being totally about the fly. My hat’s off. Salute.

  12. When it comes to relationships, fleetingness can be a terrible thing… and a gift. Some things are best lost (or freed) quickly, but others… well, other things take bits of us when they leave. There is such an ache in the tone of this poem. You always do ache so well, Bjorn.

  13. What a curiously beautiful poem leaving the reader to compare the lives of both fly and the couple inside. Was she ill in bed needed rest or was he her lover leaving but satisfying her once more by this deed of chivalry banishing the monster that threatened her? …we don’t need to know!

  14. An absorbing analogy unfolding from a nuanced and intriguing title. Wonderfully drawn.

  15. Very humane, this opening of a window to set the fly free rather than crush it with a fly swatter. I wonder if the languid lover appreciated that gesture in even the smallest degree . . .

  16. Releasing the hapless fly is an act of kindness, although I usually find flies to be more than mildly annoying.

  17. Such a feeling of doldrums you’ve succeeded in creating, and so beautifully. I love the way you use the unsaid (such as ‘afterwards’ implying all the unknown details of before).

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