and so apologized to the fly I smashed on Thursday, then flushed its toilet grave.

 

But it had no interest in the cold window I’d opened for it to leave.

 

I apologized to the fly I crushed on Friday.

 

My apartment is quiet and that fly was crazed.

 

I felt strange apologizing to the fly I killed on Saturday. 

 

That fly kept landing on my face and waking me.

 

I felt dishonest apologizing to the fly I killed on Sunday afternoon.

 

Resentment tainted my apology to a second fly I killed that same Sunday evening.

 

I felt nothing for the fly I killed on Monday.

 

Still, I apologized afterward, numbly.

 

To my surprise, that one actually forgave me.