Every fourteen years they warp
to our town

The rapture of the Cicadas
-Sleep no more

And the city becomes some
fifties horror flick

A coup de’etat of alien invaders

Where no man
or beast
can elude their daysong

Driving by the bushes
at noon they beckon

And somewhere in the shrill
blur of noise

I discovered my past

And my future too.

by Jeremy D. Grimes

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