Reckoning

dead fly on the
windowsill

one day
I will too
be still,
on my back and hard
and cold
into some hollow grave
be rolled.

brushed over, left,
and soon forgot;

dead fly and I,
we share
a lot.

dead worm dried on warm
cement,

do you know where your life
went?

glad to writhe a
sheen of dew -

some morning, worm,
i’ll be like you.