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.