freedom rings

freedom rings

the word

will never be

big enough.

the mouth

will never remain

full, no

everything must

go down,

down,

down.

a stomach gurgles,

teeth gnash.

The Day the Sky Fell

The Day the Sky Fell

It sounded like rain. That's what woke me:

the patter of bees, mosquitos

flies and gnats crackling against the sidewalk,

exoskeletons like pop rocks.

I rushed to bring the dog inside.

Dead insects smattered across my cheeks.

The clouds sinking.

A bird broke its neck on the grill.

A white haze surrounded us.

Water beaded up on my arms and forehead.

As I struggled to drag the dog inside,

a power line fell and everything went electric.

The cicadas have gone

The cicadas have gone

The air stops buzzing with

the first cool whisper of fall.

The wall of voices is silenced,

leaving only the faint scuttle

of leaves swept across the

concrete by my boots.

Gone is the throttle of wings

constant as the sound of my pulse:

usually imperceptible, but

impossible to ignore once noticed.

The silence won’t last.

The song of a thousand

drunken violins

does not simply die

with the coming of fall.

In 17 years the offspring of

this summer’s cicadas will emerge

from the dirt. They will pick up the

song where their parents left off.