for six months
she crouches in the cave
conforming her lithe body
to its nooks and angles
crowded closer and closer
by one hundred thousand eggs
pale, dangling, elongated
draped, and growing
she does not eat
but merely tends
flicking away destructive algae
sweeping moving water with her arms
to give fresh oxygen
and–as they hatch–buffeting
to help her tiny octopi offspring
break free and swim away
not looking back
at their dying mother
young, slender, wide-eyed fly
overwhelmed by urges
inflates his ego,
pumps air to balloon his head
swelling and lengthening
tiny tubes which support his eyes
beyond sinus pressure headache
pumps and pumps
until his head is massive, translucent
and eyes are as far from each other
as his life is worth
to impress a mate
thus puffed up, the stalk-eyed fly
struts
to confront another male
meeting head to head
to measure masculinity
by the width-span of their eyes
hot air results worthy of any politician
for the same prize:
the right to screw
his constituency
MJ blathers