Little Flies Poem by Charles Cross

'Little flies, why bother me so? '
'Bother you? We did not know.
Care? We cannot say and may annoy,
For in our buzzing lies the plague of Troy.

And we, in the knight's ear, sent him to death
For reasons, which Reason, itself, is exempt.
The tiny beat of our wings bring men to a knee,
And drew the sword for Pyramus and Thisbe.

Though flies, themselves, are passionate creatures
Held captive by such untimely features,
Aphrodite cursed us for our passionate deeds;
So through life, we seek out death to feed.'

'Little flies, why bother me so? '
'Bother you? We did not know.
Care? We cannot say, and thou may not judge.
Thy gods did sculpt thee in our image.'