~ for my mother
Do you know that Georgia becomes black?
at night, in Atlanta
which is named from Atlantis
The city under the sea
And the darkness is aqueous,
swimming, due chiefly
to the cast from Moon’s yearning
the cries and needing,
of her husband, Sun
(For reasons out of his cosmic control,
Sun makes love to his wife quite seldom)
So, when I was a girl,
I would play in the high grasses
as the low grasses possessed crickets,
But not fireflies
And without fireflies in black sea nights,
how could a girl of 6 ever feel romanced?
The balls of light would surround me
Darting high and low above my head
Tickling me underneath my shirt
Kissing me on both my round fat cheeks
Mauling me like one would a celebrity,
under the stars
And my Momma, as engrossed in the watery night as I
Would sit on the porch and watch me
(I was once her mother in a past life,
and therefore her eyes see all my sights pointed astral)
She would watch me jump and play the way she did
Hugging herself when there wasn’t a drop of cool air
Smiling intermittently a smile of supreme contentment…
The smile of one who had won a prize
And as the tiny aspects of life moved in sensual summer rapidity
Buzzing, chirping, stinging…
I would wonder of my mother’s Sun,
While looking up through the lanterns into the black of the crying moon
And what could be his possible excuse
for his absence from my Moon?
© Malkia Charlee NoCry. Other poetry found in Emergence of the Lotus Flower
2 thoughts on “Fireflies ©”
Thank you nineteenfifteen for such a lovely comment. “…thousands of stars birthing and dying across the horizon” – so true, it was such a cosmic experience – people never know that about the South… So glad you enjoyed the poem.
How lovely that you chose to write about fireflies, the sight of them illuminating those dark southern nights was an enchanting and spellbinding experience from childhood. I remember seeing fireflies every summer night here in Texas like thousands of stars birthing and dying across the horizon, not so much these days- it’s something that I passionately long for. and dearly miss.
There was magic in the sky those nights.
Love this work, really.