• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 11


my child watches
dances, sings the day long
like summer's cicada

light as a wasp that settles
is gone, in the same breath
like a summer swarm

yellow dark striped
flying dandelions
shut up in the dark

she watches in delight
fearful, wasps emerge
disperse from burrow's bore
to sunlight’s yellow

she zooms below
my grown-up radar
on, off my hand

hard to know
the moon too
when it is gone