The sounds of cicadas
Stings my ears
My ineffable sky.
The lamp
Who sits crying
By the coffee table
Stings at the dark
With it’s masochistic
light bulb.
The metamorphosis
From worm
To wings
Raw
And sharp
Stings at your fingertips.
Fire flinging
Unborn sparks
Towards dull and
Uninhabited grasses
Stings my uninterruptible kingdom
Like a fleeting wild horse.