Blow Flies

If you liked them, how your heart might have lifted to see their neat trapezium shapes studding the wall like a newly landed flight of jet ornaments, the intensity of their black gloss, with secret blues and greens half-glinting through, and the glass wings, not so unlike those of bees - if you could bring yourself; if they occupied a niche in creation nudged fractionally sideways - because it's not their present forms, it's their larval incarnations that you can't stop heaving into view, white nests moistly seething in a dead pigeon or a newspaper-wrapped package leaking beside a path (but enough - the others will kindly absent themselves, please!) And wondering what, where - under the floorboards or behind the freezer - suddenly hatched these.