Cicada's Song

A Poem

It starts with a hum, a Carolina hymn

the bayou’s breath in your lungs, wet, it presses in

Sultry hot summer, the mosquitos prick with tiny teeth

Like they knew before you did, with laughing, swallowed smiles underneath

And now that you’ve realized, you know you shouldn’t want.

Yet, your head turns backwards as vague thoughts haunt.

With Spanish moss in your eyes, ignore as they plunder.

The taste, the taste, promising thunder.

I hope you enjoyed this word-vomit! More content to come.

Love,

M.E. Beckley