Fly

I am the replicated DNA,
Meiosis of the first kind.
Blood on the ceiling
but you won't look up,
afraid,
so afraid to find-

me.

Spiders crowd inside
your brain,
peeling back skin like
faux turf before a
Sunday, bloody
Sunday beneath your feet,
inching back from a puddle
of blood,
creeping back toward you
threatening to
drown in itself.

Dizzy spells are not enough
to make sanity out of
flying.