Killing Fliesby Michael Dickman I sit down for dinnerwith my dead brotheragainThis is the last dream I ever want to havePassing the forks around the table, passing the knivesThere’s nothing to worry aboutOne thing I want to know is who’s in the kitchen right now if it isn’t meIt isn’t meThe kitchen is full of flies, flies are doing all the workThey light on the edgeof the roasted chickenThe bone chinaThat’s what they doLight*I will look more and more like himuntil I’m olderthan he isThen he’ll look more like meif I was lostThe flies need to be killed as soon as we’re done eating this delicious meal they madeThey serve us anything we want in toxic green tuxedosand shit wingsMy brother and I wipe our mouthsscrape our chairs back from the tableand stand upThese are the last things we’ll do together:Eat dinnerKill flies*You have to lie downnext to the bodies, shining all in a rowlike black sequinsstitching up the kitchen floorIt’s hard to do but you have to do itQuietly lay down and not sleepWe were killing them with butcher knives but moved on to spatulas to save time and energySticking their eyes onto our earlobes and wristslike EgyptianjewelryMy brother and I work hard all nightHe is my emergency exitI am hisdinner date

Killing Flies
by 
Michael Dickman 

I sit down for dinner
with my dead brother
again

This is the last dream I ever want to have

Passing the forks 
around the table, passing 
the knives

There’s nothing to worry about

One thing I want to know is who’s in the kitchen right now if it isn’t me

It isn’t me

The kitchen is full of flies, flies are doing all the work

They light on the edge
of the roasted chicken
The bone china

That’s what they do

Light


*


I will look 
more and more like him
until I’m older
than he is

Then he’ll look more like me

if I was 
lost

The flies need to be killed as soon as we’re done eating this delicious meal they made

They serve us anything we want 
in toxic green tuxedos
and 

shit wings

My brother and I wipe our mouths
scrape our chairs back from the table
and stand up

These are the last things we’ll do together:

Eat dinner

Kill flies


*

You have to lie down
next to the bodies, shining 
all in a row
like black sequins
stitching up 
the kitchen floor

It’s hard to do but you have to do it

Quietly lay down 
and not sleep

We were killing them with butcher knives but moved on to spatulas to save time and energy

Sticking their eyes 
onto our earlobes and wrists
like Egyptian
jewelry

My brother and I work hard all night

He is my emergency exit

I am 
his

dinner date

Tags: Poetry