Almanac Poetry: ‘Fly’ – Tommy Mallet




The wind’s picked up
in this month between Autumn and Winter.


I look up from splitting rocks to see
Jumbo, hands are full with shovels,
trying to shoo a fly
caught in his big man’s beard.


Soon, it’s walking across his lip.


He wiggles his head, scrunches his face.
It half launches, aiming to land again
as he
blows at it, hard.


“Fucking thing!” he protests.
blowing again.


“You realise flies drink shit
through a straw
for a living?” I laugh. “That
that’s their job.”


“So?” he says.


“How bad’s your breath that you think it’ll
put one off?”


He smiles a great big man smile,
as we work
further into the bush.




You can read more poetry from Tommy Mallet Here.



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