Susan Craig
Cicadas
Nighttime’s full July glory, screech
deafening. In morning, silence;
empty shells, skins without flesh
clinging to bark, crisp on the sidewalk.
Silver veil of their wings closed,
thoraxes unmoving,
legs brittle.
Last night’s explosion, one throbbing
life; like they rose up, screamed
“I am!” one last time.
Now they’ve vanished,
a voiceless diaspora.
Poems by Susan Craig have appeared in Kakalak, Mom Egg Review, The Collective I, Fall Lines, and Jasper, among other publications. A graphic designer by trade, she lives in Columbia, South Carolina.
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