Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

When I opened the shutters a bluebottle came to life and buzzed madly about the room, crashing into windows and even walls. Then when I sat down and tried to read it zoomed past my nose, very close. I got up, opened the door and windows in hopes it would leave in its own time and manner, but it was hopeless, the creature was possessed by a mad energy it was impossible to ignore and it was never going to go out so I got up and pursued it round the room trying to swat it but it never settled and hitting it in mid-flight was ridiculous so I gave up. The next day it was buzzing against the sill in an impotent, senseless kind of way so I got my copy of Staying Alive, which is heavy, and whacked it hard six times, killing it decisively on the sixth whack and making the dogs bark outside in the yard. The sun was streaming in through the windows so I opened one of them and did some tai-chi and as I flowed into White Crane Spreads Wings I was filled with regret for having swatted the fly and accused myself of being no better than a murderer. I could have opened the window and pushed it out, I told myself, I didn't have to be so ferocious. I went on doing my tai-chi and then another fly came in through the open window, zooming past my nose, buzzing round the room in erratic zigzags, disappearing from sight completely, landing on my left leg, then flitting away when I moved. Soon I was pursuing this fly and trying to swat it but it was impossible to get, very nimble and clever.