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Literature Text
Somewhere swamp bugs
hold candles
by small handles and
kiss the water goodnight
with a fragility that the vast
foul-breathed mouth of sunken mud
will feel, but never understand.
kiss me like this.
Sometimes moths
mistake your porch light
for the moonlight
falsifying their compasses and
deifying their newfound godess.
They care no longer for direction.
confound me this way.
Somehow fireflies
in certain regions
converse in legions
by lighting the night
with a symphonic fire
in breaths of swelling light
one slow explosion at a time.
Let's be like that.
hold candles
by small handles and
kiss the water goodnight
with a fragility that the vast
foul-breathed mouth of sunken mud
will feel, but never understand.
kiss me like this.
Sometimes moths
mistake your porch light
for the moonlight
falsifying their compasses and
deifying their newfound godess.
They care no longer for direction.
confound me this way.
Somehow fireflies
in certain regions
converse in legions
by lighting the night
with a symphonic fire
in breaths of swelling light
one slow explosion at a time.
Let's be like that.
Bug poem about love.
© 2014 - 2024 Schofield-Alan
Comments10
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Awe, this is really adorable. I really enjoy the playful, mystical feeling I get when reading this. It reminds me of a very blissful fairytale that almost vibrates on the thoughts that float around in my mind. If anything, this is a truly passionate time to enjoy not only the night, but the creatures that dwell within it.