• Broadkill Review

"A Sublunary Strip " by Robinson Terry

The flies congregate in

The corner of the sunroom

Around the amber strip of

Collective death.

As they circle the deathly

Stripe that is covered with the corpses of

Their fallen comrades,

I wonder what draws them


Is it an overpowering seductive scent,

A reminder of a taste they could

Never forget.

Is it a lack of sight added to exploration,

A slice of the airfield that their

Eyes can’t perceive,

Until they charge with

All their might,

And realize in stillness the wholesale

Futility of their efforts.

Or is it

The looming presence of the dead? Maybe

These flies know

Exactly where all the other flies

Went, and they’re simply eager

To get there too.

Robinson Terry is an upcoming graduate from SUNY Cortland, and a soon-to-be English teacher. He loves writing poems that operate on multiple levels, though this often results in him getting too in his head. He has a serious affinity for observation, which occasionally leaves him staring at the sky while he should be crossing the street. He’s previously been published in Better Than Starbucks, Nine Muses Poetry, and Flash Fiction Press.

1 view0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Two poems by Tamiko Dooley

Sayaka They made her change her name – The same kanji she’d used since she first picked up a pencil To mark on paper. Sayaka. The fortune teller said it was bad luck For the characters of his surname

"Catching the Moon" by Christina Daub

First you must roll it down your street when it is least likely to be noticed, preferably noon. If it yellows while you roll, you must tell it all your names and listen to it croon. Do not face it dir

Three poems by Cathlin Noonan

Self-Portrait From a Balm I was born from a long, hot labor a boiling, a hard shake, whipped to form after the heat and pain my caul, not shaped in splintering from my mother, but from a cooling, scra