Emma Baccone
the night of the swarm
my bare thighs
press hard against
the hot, prickly concrete—
biting into them
tiny, shallow
red craters.
as the morning breeze
fills the jersey air
the subtle smell of
city smog
is
exhilarating.
i look back to see
a swarm
of people—
colorful, vivacious
forming
a jagged line
sprawled
along the curb
for miles…
of which
i’m in the middle.
i whip back around
and out
new paint pens
crack!
their fluorescent hues
begin to dance across
the opaque white sheet
when suddenly—
a lanternfly!
its descending, scarlet wings
flecked with specks
of vantablack shade
alight in the
oozing aequorea blues
now
brighter than ever—
its thriving self
takes flight
glowing
as the swarm
follows into the night.
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