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The Flies
Anthony A. Pino

Through the breach I saw her, my sister,
before the angry conspiratorial gazes
of leering men, lusting for the sweet cream of her life,
bitter that they didn't possess it.
Gathering like flies, they wanted
to suck it out of her,
and leave her dry, wasted and old
--- like all men do.
Quickly she walked on.
Another woman pased by;
she was beautiful!
I gazed at her through the breach.
I, too
had become
a fly.