August
In the early-now evening
the ground is hard-packed and dry
and we go out with the watering can
keeping things alive.
Open door lets the sound of
cicadas in.
We called them locusts
and their skins, shells.
Buzzsaw locust
Rattle locust
Inhale exhale through the front teeth locust
The work is hard, to justify the murder of lineage.
I walk out in the early-now evening
with my watering can.
Thoughts wash dry leaves
then surprised
by the whole yellow moon
rising from a dark margin.