for Edward Field
Don’t like to brag,
but today I captured a fly
between thumb and forefinger.
How her enraged wings vibrated —
pure insect will tickling
my fingertips like a joy buzzer.
It was a bright blue August day,
still and hot.
So I released my fly out the window.
Into the weather,
which would not last,
she zoomed off straight and fast.
Roger Netzer’s poems have appeared in Green Hills Literary Lantern, Mas Tequila, Chiron, Meat For Tea, The Five-Two, Syndic, and other magazines. He lives in Roxbury, Connecticut.