Fly watching me

If I were a fly on the wall
Watching me,
What would I see?

Firstly,
What’s my perspective?

Do I see an area of moving stuff?
As though I were part
Of the sea looking up
And seeing part of a wave.

Do I see a bleating thing there
That sees through slitted eyes
A world that’s always wrong?

Or do I see the icy flow of life
Flow past it like stream over rock?
As it sits shining,
Sticking up into the flow

And casting a shadow
Like two fingers inserted
Into a beam of light.

A separate thing experiencing
Just myself in relation.

Do I see a transparent thing?
Drifting through some dark ether?

Belonging to the vast space
Between our atoms.

Some say we’re chemistry.
Some say we make the chemicals.

But whatever truth it is
That you behold
It’s unlikely to be
Less valid
Than hers
or
mine.

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