A Singing Gleam that Sounds like Torture Unending

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The singing of cicadas seems as long

As August stretched out past the limits of

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Eternity.  This singing though too strong

Is more like zizzing far away from love

While buggie love is driving all this lust

Forever through the summer’s day and dusk.

Cicadas do not pause their piercing thrust.

The males alone, together, zizzing busk

Their daytime z-z-z-z-z-z-zerenade . . .  a chorus-like

Performance calls the females for their love.

The females flick their wings to bring the spike

Of semen to their guts, that semen shove.

  The song is never everlasting, though

    It thrums a zillion times with sex’s glow.

© Phillip Whidden