John Sweet writes

august, cicadas

 

not silence, but the

slow buzz of energy

not energy, but silence

broken by the barking of

dogs and the gentle motion

                               of trees

no god, only

sunlight like a pulse

              like a hammer

              like your lover’s hands

sky the color of dust and

houses almost on fire

back yards heavy with the

smell of decay and gasoline

light a match and

breathe in

 

 August Cicadas -- Keith Jacobshagen