Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Let’s Hope Every Bluegill in Lake St. Clair is Sated

Mayfly Postcard

The mayflies of your youth have not flown away, they cling dumbly
to screen doors, or dangle like suicides from stray lengths of spiderweb,
a thousand thousand bodies, turning into mummies
on the sidewalk in the sun, their wings
under the tread
of your sneakers,

the mayflies of your youth were also known as fishflies,
let’s hope every bluegill in Lake St. Clair is sated, let’s assume
the fishflies have their use, of course they have
their purpose:
to mate and so continue
the dynasty
of mayflies and also

to bring back to you the mayflies of your youth,
how they basked on the garage door, or gathered
like sports fans
around the porch light, you threw them into spider nets
under the porch, because you loved to see
a spider
struggle and delight

in such a bounty.  The fishflies,
of course, live an entire life
in one day.
They are completely
without stomachs
or the curse
of hungry

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