Fireflies Your dad tells you he’s seen hardly any This summer. A few, but nothing like He used to when he was a boy. You remember them too, how they’d light up The pasture like paparazzi, turning The old mare into a celebrity. He blames it on all the spraying. For the first time the grain farmers Who own the valley used a drone He watched float back and forth Mourningly over the corn, trailing A gown of poison. As he’s talking, You’re still remembering summer nights, Running barefoot in the yard towards where One had appeared. When you got there, It was gone. But it wasn’t gone, only gone Dark in the darkening air. It resembled A pair of eyelashes flying. Only after You caught it did it glow. Then You’d peer into the bellows of your hands To see them fill with a ghoulish green light. It was what you’d wanted. But you let it go.
Fireflies
Fireflies
Fireflies
Fireflies Your dad tells you he’s seen hardly any This summer. A few, but nothing like He used to when he was a boy. You remember them too, how they’d light up The pasture like paparazzi, turning The old mare into a celebrity. He blames it on all the spraying. For the first time the grain farmers Who own the valley used a drone He watched float back and forth Mourningly over the corn, trailing A gown of poison. As he’s talking, You’re still remembering summer nights, Running barefoot in the yard towards where One had appeared. When you got there, It was gone. But it wasn’t gone, only gone Dark in the darkening air. It resembled A pair of eyelashes flying. Only after You caught it did it glow. Then You’d peer into the bellows of your hands To see them fill with a ghoulish green light. It was what you’d wanted. But you let it go.