Philip Ciampa - New Fire

In the after-dinner silence
of neighbors, a night soaked
in the smell of cut grass and childhood
and the whir of insect hind-legs
that rises with the darkness
and a new moon, Abby spots one

low in the grasses forgotten
by the lawnmower, the phosphorus
tail streaks like the trail of a meteor
through the garden, a look
and we’re enraptured: fireflies
are everywhere, the whole yard
a passion of insects

and Abby who is still young enough
for dirt under her fingernails
and a healthy love of bugs,
sets out with splayed hands
and quick steps each time the firefly
disrobes himself of darkness—

from hide and seek she knows
the feeling of being sought,
leaving one red sneaker
in plain sight, flirting
with a guilty longing to be found;
but she can’t yet recognize seduction
as game, where one hides to be given away—

but on another night moon-full
and flooded with the hum of desire,
where a hatching of next-year fireflies
will fill their bellies with light
and dance among the vegetables,
she might grow restless after dinner

without knowing why
she’ll feel too old for insects,
those careless fingernails
now maraschino red, her abdomen
kindled and smoldering
with a small, mysterious blaze

Philip Ciampa

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/new-fire/