Poem: Art is Like a Lightningbolt and Thunderclap, Too

I wrote my heart a letter today

Wrote it fine, wrote it fey

Took it in my hands

Sent it on its way

I know not where it is



I caught a fleeting fly today

Pulled it from the air

So dull and grey

Its wings fluttered on

Its eyes queerly gay


In the sun


I held it there

In fingers like a vice

Watching it struggle

To escape

As it wiggled and cried

Its insect eyes

Flashed colors

I knew

In my own.


The fly like the letter

Is caught in time

Trapped in space

Never to arrive

At the place it desires

Until it slips

From my fingers.

©2013 Sam Oliver (Eris)