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The War
I.

Don't know how they found their way, but 
I look up and two flies are on the windshield 
- combating, seemingly conjoined. 
Hooked at what seems to be two backends. 
As the he/husband to me/wife 
moves the Chevy backwards, 
the wings flitter like they two 
would fly off as one, 
as they came as one, 
but their battle isn't yet complete.

In the back seat, 
Twin A bickers at her clone. 
Something about which song is playing 
through the speakers 
being a wrong song 
through anything. 
And about which daughter 
- combating, seemingly conjoined 
- is allowed to choose.

Husband/father-of shifts and the truck 
moves forward, 
the wings on the windshield flitter, 
and the twins-of in the back fight. 
Me/wife/mother-of watches the battle ahead, 
the pulling against winds so meek to us, 
so strong to flies. 

The which song of which the 
battle-of-back continues, 
he/father-of says to stop the fight 
or songs will be things lost. 
Twin B glares across at her clone, 
and both settle into fret.

As the light is red and the Chevy is stopped, 
the fly below exerts their control, 
rallies, 
comes back, 
pulls in the up-direction of windshield and 
makes headway. 
The fly once-above skitters legs to hold tight, 
exerts near-equal in the down ways. 
An impasse reached.

Me/wife/mother-of tilts head, 
watches flies in battle. 

II.

As the light goes green 
and the pickup starts forward again, 
and battles resurge.

Twin B begins the offensive anew. 
Terms like 'I mean' 
- words like 'We just' 
- ends like pouts. 
She/Twin B/daughter-of flicks more words 
meant for her clone 
yet aimed forward to mother-of 
and father-of 
- to he and me 
- and to the flies fighting.

The flies fighting have swapped again. 
The top going to bottom, 
the bottom now on top, 
the bottoms of both still conjoined, 
unable to detach. 
Unwilling. 

He/husband looks sidewise my way. 
Me/wife focuses forward at flies.

Twin A says of her clone 
words like 'Ugly' 
- words like 'Cannot even' 
- like she/clone-of looks nothing like. 
Like she/clone-of 'Even can.' 

Husband/father-of raises voice. 
Words like 'Stop!' 
Yet music continues, 
as do fightings. 
Only the music seems wrong.

And the Chevy stops. 
And the flies swap. 
And the clones quiet. 
Me/wife-of/mother-of/watcher-of 
wonders what the flies fight for. 
If one wants to eat and the other looks of food. 
If one hates and the other has become hated. 
If it is simple sex and has gone somehow wrong.

Me/wife-of/mother-of/watcher-of says words 
like 'How do flies procreate' 
but no one answers. 
And the Chevy continues forward again.

III.

As the light goes green 
and the pickup starts again forward, 
battles resurge.

Of flies
- top becomes bottom and 
bottom becomes top, 
wings flicker, 
they remain joined.

Of daughters 
- words become stares and 
stares become glares, 
arms chest-cross, 
they remain divided.

Of parents 
- he/husband-of/father-of drives, 
me/wife-of/mother-of/watcher-of 
watches 
flies.

The flies drop window-wise down. 
The fly on top pulls up once more, 
as though this fly who is now faced up 
has always pulled up, 
never down, 
never other than what is happening 
right this second.

Father-of says to twins-of that 
they liked the songs playing. 
Husband-of says the music belongs to them. 
He reminds them that it was they who 
chose the song before we had first stopped.

The flies climb window-wise up. 
The fly on bottom, 
do they pull away in fear or anger, 
in desperation or dominance? 

Twin A insists she never liked the music. 
Twin B agrees. 
An impasse.

Me/wife-of/mother-of/watcher-of 
looks back at daughters-of. 
Smile issues from face. 
Smiles not returned. 

Turn back to flies 
and they are gone.

Their war no longer 
recorded. 

No posterity to be mentioned of.
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