Fireflies

Last night I caught them in fruit
jars & stirred their curt light
into tea: shining sweetener,
blossom-winged. Hold those last
moments crushing candle-flies,
lamp-flies, lightning bugs
the shape of lanterns: deng

long glowing, glowy. It’s mid
-autumn. From the kitchen,
a sinfonietta—swarm of flies
making light, light made of longing.

This morning, under apples, I wait
gulping rice tea for night’s arrival,
where the lights come on, where
flame-carriers dance that what-are-we
-doing cha-cha-cha, where
language is only sound, where stars
fly from                           sky
                     to sky

to sky.