—in mem. William Corbett, 1942–2018
Flies
The fireflies have come
And you’re dying
The fireflies have come
And your children are in Italy
The fireflies have come
And your wife is with you in Brooklyn
And your friend is in San Francisco
And John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave
The fireflies are out
The fire tower is lit
The airplane tower blinks red
The mosquitoes are out
The fireflies have come
They are blinking to their fellows
They are signaling love or some other hello
They are tiny structuralists
They know everything is a system of differentiation
Some blink two some three then dark then
Some blink two some three then dark
As flies to wanton boys . . .
They live their life their fire flies
There are tears for things and tears of things
The fireflies are gone
Maureen N. McLane is the author of seven books of poems and of My Poets, an experiment in memoir/criticism. Her latest book of poetry, What You Want, will be published in May.
Originally published:
November 30, 2022
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