That Blake's fly

The cautious
langy steps
on irritant skin.
Ghost touches;
conspicuous by
their instrusion.
Skin, metal
plastic and
cloth. The
untouchable,
the dead, the
wasted and
their disguise.
All under the
long tendril
feet of Blake's
fly. Tying up
the ends of the
cosmos on the
same ordinary
fabric. The little
flying critter
with a belly full
of the universe.