you would've escaped
a fly
you should've had enough
reflexes to get away fast enough
but no
the hand
that manicured hand
will wave and smack
and you'll weave and bob
but then
smack
blood has covered the sweaty palm
and then again it comes down
and again, it's going to town
smack smack smack
when the skin lifts and your body
sticks to it, clings for life
you're not a fly anymore
you're a ground
and you've got no way to
stop it