Why little flies drown

After a while that Summer you wanted to find us a place
where we could do more than talk.
A hotel would have been obvious, but we had no money.
You knew someone who owned a summer house though.
We didn’t make it to the bed, the view
of the sea and the taste of the retsina
where little flies choose to drown in
– the wine was so sweet they gave their lives
for a sip – kept us on the veranda.
The sun went down faster than I had ever seen
and we held hands knowing each other,
not understanding the choice of little flies that drown.

Years later I went back there. The summer house
was gone for most part, though there were traces left
of the veranda. Sand had covered the floor boards.
I sat there thinking how it all had been,
the ride here on the back of your rented bicycle,
and that the sun went down so fast that night,
and I opened a bottle of wine I brought with me.
Retsina. Out of nowhere they came,
little flies. With no hesitation they entered the bottle,
sure of a quick death. And they were right.
I felt your presence while the evening gave me
one more sunset, faster than I had ever seen.


Comments on: "Why little flies drown" (4)

  1. Oh this is lovely Ina. It’s almost a short story. And you excel in them! I wish your novels were in English! I can just picture myself curled up with one, and wanting it to go on for ever! 🙂

    Do you think they drown beause they become so intoxicated they cant move, let alone fly?!

    L&H xx

    • Thank you very much Christine, I am glad you like it. It would be nice if the novels were translated in English 🙂 I am thinking of writing one in your language, so who knows 🙂
      The little flies: I think the alcohol is too much for their little bodies.

      L&H xx

  2. Love this one, as I commented on Facebook I think. That image of the flies drowning … choosing to do so again and again … it wonderful! XO

    • Hi Diane, thank you very much. Yes I put it on FB too. Those flies, I think I must have swallowed some when I was there (Naxos) 🙂 xx

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