Magicicada Brood II (2013)                                                                                                                                                                  Elise Liu

 

 

 

I've heard they descend like black fog

or the shadow of God's instep coming down

but in fact I have never seen a living cicada,

 

only pictures—Cicadidae, their brood maps drawn

by entomologists, and their obscene anatomies.

Seventeen years ago I was in another country

 

and I am in that exile still. Here each little wing

englassed still winks, and each little soul, aimless

as a firebomb and as certain, strikes alone.

 

But you must watch them heap like magazines

upon your porch and crackling doorstep.

You must count the wasted bodies, trilling

 

on your homeward road. I hope you do. I would.

But I would welcome any swarm. And when

I say welcome, I mean me. I mean, look—

 

like whirling dervishes alight, like a chandelier

in the sky, hung up and hanging—the cicadas.

The ones who forget, and who remember.

 

Forgive me. I have forgiven you.