“‘I might be old, but I’m someone new,’ she said…”

In May, a cicada on a buttress chirped a ghazal. Today, a cockroach replied. Who knew insects talked like this?


The background: you returned—a draught of wine
Fulfilling sweet the word the wind had thrown,
Returning scents and sight, restoring mine.

Despairingly, we wandered on our own
Beyond you evermore, or so we feared,
Eternal, guileless girl—then how we cheered…

The foreground: love, it glows with you alone.

(For all the entries in this series, hit the “looking up” tab.)

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