nthposition online magazine

Fireflies take the dusk


[ poetry - january 09 ]

Fireflies electrocute grass, code
talk like green-eyed quarks just as sunset bleeds
behind the blousy mouths of thunderheads
pouting over fall leaves losing their rosy dispositions.
Offshore a tropical storm blows itself up
the size of a campaign promise
and we smell the potential of wind
to change the direction of our lives, but
I was talking about fireflies
and the way they magicate the grass, tweak it
to a laser show for this woman tired from work
who needs a little light delight
to distract from the evening news - a hurricane
that's due to murder third world islands or
a three year old drenched in peonies of blood
from her noname mother
gunned down at a checkpoint in Iraq, brief
clips before the uranium grins of politicos glow
over the slowing economy. Night,
too soon, and the thin strobes blink out.