January through March 2003 ~ Volume 11
Publisher D. Menendez, EIC Jim Christ
Editors Janet Kenny & Ani Gjika - Joe Carcel Ghost Editor
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| The Great Flood |
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Christin Melton |
| As dusk fades to black, my brother and I scrunch cool grass between naked toes while the Indiana air licks our skins, sweats into our t-shirts. Grandma gives us a ball jar, tin lid nail-pricked, and we wait for flickering dots of phosphorescence to lead us in a zigzag dance across the lawn. The bugs blink a rhapsody, joined by our chorus of giggles and "I got ones". We pop them into the jar, feel all-powerful, but they refuse to flash-dazzle us. Instead they cluster under the cap, seeking escape from their glass terrarium-- and it's no longer fun to have them, these lightning bugs that won't crack the dark. Billy runs to a tap that juts from the house, and he floods the jar with water, shakes it like a Magic 8-ball. The bugs struggle, rise to the top, outlook not so good. We show Grandma our cache and she says "fireflies never hurt no one," sends us to bed with bottom smacks. In the black room, my hands luminesce with firefly blood. Poem copyright © Christin Melton 2002. All rights reserved.
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