After the Locusts
which, of course, weren’t locusts. More
like sailors, drunk careening
toward sex and death. That’s all they
get for all that waiting. Could
be that’s all anyone gets.
Pity now the neighbor’s hens’
virgin clucking in their coop.
11 thoughts on "After the Locusts"
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“that’s all anyone gets”–love the time of this poem
Love the imagery: periodic cicadas as drunken sailors! Funny and nicely done!
I love this.
yes, great imagery!
Stunning images!
I like this one a lot too. Do you think the chickens care if they taste better when they’re full of cicadas?
Made me smile.
Irony of the metaphor, do we all have the fate of the cicadas
reggae drums gone mad. We are all so tired of their song.
Nice:More
like sailors, drunk careening
toward sex and death.
More
like sailors, drunk careening
toward sex and death. That’s all they
get for all that waiting.
What great lines!