It is the first week of July
and the June bugs know their
numbered days are moving inevitably toward oblivion
I spread my sarong on Bermuda
wet with early evening dew
and because I do they swarm
their floundering amber bodies around
me
Wing chased wind the air sits
a few feet from a tall sodium
safety light.
With the summer insects I feel
a closing approach from the West
and then from the East so that a single
light is the focus of the whole world.
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