tactics for killing flies

don't get in the habit of making confessions
to them even if you are lonely
& even if the drain in the sink
is a mouth. this became my trouble.
i would reach my hand inside
& let each finger be an orphan. 
the flies welcome me as one of them
& i try to tell them this is a bad idea.
i have never placed a window on my back
nor have i perched in the mashed flesh
of a gone pear. they say,
"you do not need to know how
to be hungry." don't open the doors 
one day when you are trying not to die.
don't let the wind turn into horses 
& the closets, to landfills. it is best
if you do not learn their language.
when you start speaking to them
then you start wanting to keep them around.
never feed them. it is crucial you do not 
feed them. even if they offer
to sing you a song in exchange for a peach. 
even if you have not
spoken to another human in years.
even if the neighbors are turning
one by one becoming crows in the night. 
once you do, they will arrive & form
a buzzing beard on your face.
i have lived into private deadly hopes.
ate plums in the mirror. sugar waits 
just a spoon away. i took them up once
on the singing. ave maria. holy ghosts.
insect angels with the midday light
making ambrosia of my face.
i get a spoon. i still don't have
the guts to call you. instead, i sing
with the flies. they give me permission
to wallow in my lostness. you should
never let them in. crush each like periods.
the days' doorknockers. when we talk
again, i'll teach you how to say "please"
just like the flies do.