50 years late
to the gleaming fat June bug
I scrunched
under my small bare foot
on my way to the ferris wheel
in Lions Park across the street from my house.
I can still see the smooth black shine
of your armor that failed you
just as I landed.
Oh creature of obsidian summer–
forgive me–I only had eyes for the twinkling
lights that twirled in the dusky nearness
while the moon, ascending,
must have eyed us
from its angle of neutral clarity.
Andrea Potos
Andrea Potos is author of several poetry collections, including most recently Her Joy Becomes (Fernwood Press). Other books include Marrow of Summer (Kelsay Books), Mothershell (Kelsay Books), A Stone to Carry Home (Salmon Poetry), An Ink Like Early Twilight (Salmon Poetry), We Lit the Lamps Ourselves (Salmon Poetry), and Yaya’s Cloth (Iris Press). Her poems can be found widely in print and online, most recently in The Sun, Poetry East, One Art, Braided Way, How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope (Storey Publishing), and The Path to Kindness (Storey Publishing). Andrea lives in Madison.
Portage Magazine 