Maggot Memoirs

(A response poem to the collaborative piece ‘Shoo, Fly‘ by the amazing Kindra M. Austin and Samantha Lucero, on Sudden Denouement. Be sure to read this stunning piece.)

 

I recall the apparition.

they squirmed a nauseating mess,

a poltergeist steak on the garage floor.

I puzzle on the number

of maggots that have crawled upon me.

 

I knew they were flies – in bars and in dorms rooms.

I swatted at the buzz of their egos

in Greek chorus. I was that girl

with the grades and the holey swatter.

I was that girl, brilliant and slightly awkward,

attracting flies as brilliantine

greases fashionista disasters.

I was that girl with fierce four-eyed intent

and dismal coordination, that girl

who looked in the mirror

with inverted beer goggles.

when flies buzzed habitual lies

of beauty and breaktakability

I was entangled in gossamer webs

spun of red perfumed roses,

trips to Paris and hot air

balloon rides. my flyswatter

matted in the webbing.

 

flies or not, I learned.

I learned control was a pulled down

zipper and me wriggling my way

down the bed and control

was how I wrought their finish

while I still wore my clothes

if not my dignity. I 80’s teased

my hair, not their cocks.

 

I have no doubt those flies

nestled in Aqua Net nests

leaving me their seed.

I am left maggoty

lo these many years

in the stale beer and hazy afters.

I can feel them crawling on me-

the maggots of those lost girl nights.

 

some nights I am swarmed

by the maggots that silent whisper

buzzing lies anew, across

generations of girls

Tie your hair up girls

and earn some respect.

 

I scoop the maggots from my ears

ferret them out

from dark warm mind corners.

I see now the rest of that vision

the hose pulverizing

the quivering worm morass.

it is a fire hose, now,

instrument of salvation, not a grandiose

phallic substitute –

as if, boys! –

and I loose it on the maggot

memories.