Bluebottles

by Aidan Andrew Dun

fly eye

 

Blue-green gems
in a spiral
sitting neatly,
we’re eating
a snail
completely.

Clambering
crushed debris,
we are winged
demolition-men
dripping
bling.

‘Jumpy, edgy
jokey, tense.’
Each applies to us
wordly-wise
flies: all-seeing,
no focus.

Only filth’s
fascinating,
Brinks Mat
gold-bullion:
dirty money
just like that.

Fast as you can
diamond-through,
power-tools
buzzing: you
as armed robber.
Kriminal rules!

But him
in the sky
with strange eyeball,
wide-angle
camera’s
fly-on-the-wall?

We’re all
precious stones
stealing away
our own
good luck,
every day,

That’s all!

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