daynabhattiroberts.blog

aren’t you listening? 

i grip my ear in my sticky palm like it will open, bloom, expand – and begin singing 

to me, only me, especially for me 

i want to know its secrets, i want to know my secrets – the ones i box, compartmentalize, make light enough to glide through swarms of bugs on a darkening summer sky 

on a bike in my damp swimsuit with my bare feet and nothing else 

“where’d crystal go?”

what, i don’t ask.

“she forgot her addiction at the beach.” 

right. of course. how could she die without it?

i listen. i listen, i rip my ear off, i hand it to them

no – it’s not a matter of you listening it’s a matter of you telling and now i’m bleeding summer sunsets down my jaw 

so won’t you tell me?

my skin is chaffed raw where i press down on the pedals 

how are you still so far?

how many bugs will fly into my mouth if i part my lips and tell you to slow down 

to catch up 

to tell me, just tell me 

where the fireflies are going.

what, i don’t say, but someone does.

“haven’t you heard?”

i shake my head.

“they’re dying. our kids won’t see them.”

a grin. 

why are you grinning, i don’t ask.

“but this summer they’re back. some shit about the weather. they also found amelia earhart.” 

no, i don’t say. stop. i don’t give a damn about planes. where are the fireflies going?

i hold out that bloodied ear for an answer. 

“how will our kids find their way home with no fireflies?”

ah, there’s my voice. 

“aren’t you listening?“

the god damn fireflies are dying and summer will never be the same