Ekphrasis – Small Flies and Other Wings

Small flies and other wings mangle themselves:
my windshield, my grill, my bumper
on those wet summer nights in oblivion,
the lake district, begging
the question:
whether it is the brush
or the canvas or the random headlong
rush of one against another
that makes of death — minute
as it is — a grand and heartless
splendor.

Image: Small Flies and Other Wings — Christine Ay Tjoe

Written for the d’Verse prompt: The Poet as Painter https://dversepoets.com/2021/03/23/poetics-the-poet-as-painter/

24 Thoughts

  1. A wonderful poem. This is the first time I have thought of bugs on the windshield as “a grand heartless splendor!” Great question you pose!
    Dwight

  2. You’ve reminded me of one of the reasons I’m not looking forward to summer and wish spring was longer. I love the question and the internal rhyme in the lines:
    ‘whether it is the brush
    or the canvas or the random headlong
    rush of one against another
    that makes of death — minute
    as it is — a grand and heartless
    splendor.’

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