Cicada Love Song
Cicada boys sing!
A billion seventeen-year-olds
all hormones and no bedtime
mad to mate, Motown songs
promising everything
Muscles buckle tymbals
below the belly
the tymbals snap back in place
like yogic fire breaths
four hundred times a second
Each hollow abdomen
a sound box, each enlarged
trachea amplifying woo and troth
loud as lawnmowers
that never run out of gas:
“Oh Darling, this love will live
five sweet weeks, then sleep,
cradled in darkness, fed by
memory, and be reborn
with wings!”
12 thoughts on "Cicada Love Song"
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That first stanza!! Cicadas kind of creep me out, but this poem makes me smile and chuckle. Thank you!
I love the ending. It feels so hopeful and lovely, to “be reborn/with wings”
This one made me smile. : )
😆I adored this poem Mike Wilson – especially laughing out loud at “each enlarged trachea amplifying woo and troth
loud as lawnmowers that never run out of gas……”
Cicadas as seventeen-year-old-boys with raging hormones! Love your unique voice!! Wonderful imagery. as always! “yogic fire breaths” – Wow!
Congratulations on our first cicada piece! I fully expect them to influence quite a few of our works this year! Loved the same lines Manny mentioned above (and others as well).
Absolutely stellar! I think we need to buckle up for the ride!
What a joyful little ride. I have to admit, the more I read about cicadas the more I like them. (I didn’t start out a fan.) I love this verse especially.
Each hollow abdomen
a sound box, each enlarged
trachea amplifying woo and troth
loud as lawnmowers
that never run out of gas:
Mike! Not one line yielded. I loved it!
man, that’s a wonderful poem, Mike… gave me flashbacks to a youth i havent thought much about lately.
Great poem, Mike.
Great poem, Mike! love the play.