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Posts Tagged ‘fruit fly’

Drosophila

 

 

 

All winter

the fruit flies

have survived

in our kitchen.

Whatever I know

of fruit flies suggests

they should not

have lived

through the cold.

They never have

made it to February before.

I find them in my wine glasses,

in my tea cups,

one a week or so.

I know that every

living thing is wired

to go on—some mysterious

drive in us says

Live, live. I have

felt it myself

when held too long underwater

or when lost in the woods.

Is this why

I do not try to kill them,

these fruit flies,

though I am repulsed

by their tiny insatiable hunger?

Their name means dew lover.

I, too, am hungry—

I, too, have learned

to adapt to cold.

To adjust is more

practical than to hope.

All winter, in my cups,

there’s a taste of dew,

of learning to thrive.

 

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