The creatures
who watch us
with amused love
are dying.
Sometimes, we
have nothing
to do with it.
Cicada,
the little Christ
hummed the
drone note
high in sooty towers.
Now its body
lies broken
on a step.
Lifted,
the wings
detach,
thorax drops
like an airy plumb.
We live,
it seems,
on a one-sided
world--
one tired
as a body
on the city bus
at night,
falling into itself,
head bent
in the wrong
direction.
I picked this poem because I like nature and stuff and this
poem talks about how like we should pay more attention to the
things around us. My favorite line in the poem is when the poet
talks about our view on life. He compares it to sleeping on the
bus with our head faced in the wrong direction which I can totally
relate to that cause like when I sleep on the bus my head goes in
like the wierdest positions. Oh and like how you wake up after
your asleep on the bus and your body just kind of aches, I think
that if we continue to not pay attention and look the wrong way
we'll get hurt, like when you wake up after sleeping in the wrong
direction.
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