Drugged and drowsy, but not asleep,
My uncle and I trail the
Fireflies, only stopping when we can’t see their glow.
Feet lightly trample the grass, stalking their every move.
Pouncing as their light reveals them, a tease they throw our way.
Listen for their wings my uncle would tell me.
I nod and ask myself why I hadn’t thought of that.
They play along, letting themselves get caught.
We keep them in a pickle jar with a piece of cantaloupe in it,
In case they get hungry.
My mother will quietly pry it out of my hands after I fall asleep,
And thank them for playing along.

My brothers and I climb into the back of
My granddad’s pick-up.
Uncles and dogs scramble in with us,
And with my mother’s scornful warning,
We head to the field in front of the house.
With grass that tickles my ears, and mice running across my feet.
As I walk to the bow of the truck
My daddy places me tenderly on the hood,
As if it’s rusty grooves would break me.
We watch the lunar eclipse
Our eyes not wanting to blink,
As we hear thunder rolling in the distance,
Knowing our performance would be cut short.
Knowing our time together would be cut short.