In my youth, I would spend summer nights capturing fireflies
Now, I can find all but one
Summers searing, storms rougher when they take hold
In the breath of rain there is no flicker
Darkness between the weeping blades; it was not like this before
Tell me, where did the fireflies go?
Youthful skin littered in pustules, bites from mosquitoes snout
I marked them with my thumb nail digging
Beneath irritation to brand an ‘x’
Itching desperately for any relief
Now, my flesh is free of blemishes
Catching beetles in made-up hotels, I showed them where to sleep
Bodies rolling up into tiny spirals
Popping up when I reeled back
Crawling along with childhood play
Now, I can’t even find their shells
Now, summers are sticky, melting
Flesh to simmering sidewalks
Where are those pests of my youth
Tell me, where did the bugs go?
