Nights when it's warm and no one is watching, I walk to the edge of the road and stare at all the fireflies. I squint and pretend they're hallucinations, bright made-up waves of the brain. I call them, field bling. I call them, fancy creepies. It's been a long time since I've wanted to die, it makes me feel like taking off my skin suit and seeing how my light flies all on its own, neon and bouncy like a wannabe star.
Poem recommended by:
Kate Vieira
Why I chose this poem:
I love the language--each word (skin suit! field bling!) reveals a luminous reality just underneath the surface of things. Limón makes me aware of light--in myself, in nature, in others--where I might have otherwise missed it.
Kate Vieira is associate professor of Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. She researches and teaches about the power of writing in everyday lives. www.katevieira.com
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