Like almost every late June night
in Louisiana, this one’s filled
with a sky thick with sweat,
and my legs churn as I chase
after the little fliers that carry
blinking lanterns in their butts.
The open mouth of my Mason jar
has high hopes of catching lights.
I see a silhouette that looks like mother
standing inside the screen door motioning
me to come. But I am in a dream, floating
in a dark universe surrounded by swarms
of stars. I don’t know about the truck
or the highway or the wreck. I only
know one star has landed in my palm
and won’t fly off, and I’m mesmerized
by its glow on my lifeline.
Fireflies
